r 


!..■ 


.  FEB  28  1969    ^ 

SCC//11J00  

Paley,  William,  1743-1805. 

Principles  of  moral  and  political  philosopb 


V 


'/A^^^^^!^^^''^^ 


^-•-^ 


THE 


PRINCIPLES 


OF 


MORAL  AND  POLITICAL 


PHILOSOPHY. 


BY  WILLIAM  PALEY,  D.  D. 


THE  SIXTH  AMERICAN,  FROM  THE  TWELFTH  ENGLISH  EDITION. 


BOSTON': 
PUBLISHED  BY  JOHN  WEST  AND  CO.  No.  75,  CORNHILL. 


1810. 

%.  G.  HO'ise,  Printer,  Court-Stresr, 


* 


TO 
THE  RIGHT  REVEREND 

EDMUND  LAW,  D,  D. 

LORD  BISHOP  OF  CARLISLEo 


MY  LORD, 


JhlAD  the  obligations  which  I 
owe  to  your  Lordship's  kindness  been 
much  less,  or  much  fewer,  than  they 
are  ;  had  personal  gratitude  left  any 
place  in  my  mind  for  deliberation  or 
for  enquiry  ;  in  selecting  a  name  which 
every  reader  might  confess  to  be  pre- 
fixed with  propriety  to  a  work,  that,  in 
many  of  its  parts,  bears  no  obscure  re- 
lation to  the  general  principles  of  nat- 
ural and  revealed  religion,  I  should  have 
found  myself  directed  by  many  consid- 
erations to  that  of  the  Bishop  of  Car- 
lisle. A  long  life  spent  in  the  most  in- 
teresting of  all  human  pursuits,  the  in- 
vestigation of  moral  and  religious  truth, 
in  constant  and  unwearied  endeavours 


C    iv    ] 

to  advance  the  discovery,  communica- 
tion and  success  of  both  ;  a  hfe  so  oc- 
cupied, and  arrived  at  that  period  which 
renders  every  Hfe  venerable,  commands 
respect  by  a  title,  which  no  virtuous 
mind  will  dispute,  which  no  mind  sen- 
sible of  the  importance  of  these  studies 
to  the  supreme  concernments  of  man- 
kind will  not  rejoice  to  see  acknowl-" 
edged.  Whatever  difference,  or  what- 
ever opposition,  some  who  peruse  your 
Lordship's  writings  may  perceive  be- 
tween your  conclusions  and  their  own, 
the  good  and  wise  of  all  persuasions 
will  revere  that  industry,  which  has  for 
its  object  the  illustration  or  defence  of 
our  common  Christianity.  Your  Lord- 
ship's researches  have  never  lost  sight 
of  one  purpose,  namely,  to  recover  the 
simplicity  of  the  gospel  from  beneath 
that  load  of  unauthorized  additions, 
vv^hich  the  ignorance  of  some  ageg,  and 
the  learning  of  others,  the  superstition 
of  weak,  and  the  craft  of  designing- 
men,  have  (unhappily  for  its  interest) 
heaped  upon  it.  And  this  purpose,  I 
am  convinced,  was  dictated  by  the  pu- 
rest motive  ;    by  a  firm,  and  I  think  a 


C     V     ] 

just  opinion,  that  whatever  renders  re- 
ligion more  rational,  renders  it  more 
credible ;  that  he  who,  by  a  diligent 
and  faithful  examination  of  the  original 
records,  dismisses  from  the  system  one 
article  which  contradicts  the  apprehen- 
sion, the  experience,  or  the  reasoning 
of  mankind,  does  more  towards  recom- 
mending the  belief,  and,  with  the  belief, 
the  influence  of  Christianity,  to  the  un- 
derstandings and  consciences  of  serious 
inquirers,  and  through  them  to  univer- 
sal reception  and  authority,  than  can 
be  effected  by  a  thousand  contenders 
for  creeds  and  ordinances  of  human 
establishment. 

When  the  doctrine  of  transubstanti- 
ation  had  taken  possession  of  the  Chris- 
tian world,  it  was  not  without  the  in- 
dustry of  learned  men  that  it  came  at 
length  to  be  discovered,  that  no  such 
doctrine  was  contained  in  the  New  Tes- 
tament. But  had  those  excellent  per- 
sons done  nothing  more  by  their  dis-^ 
covery,  than  abolished  an  innocent  su~ 
perstition,  or  changed  some  directions 
in  the  ceremonial  of  public  worship, 
they  had  merited  little  of  that  venera-^ 


C     vl     ] 

tion,  with  which  the  gratitude  of  Prot- 
estant churches  remembers  their  ser- 
vices. What  they  did  for  mankind 
was  this  :  they  exonerated  Christianity 
of  a  A\^eight  whicli  sunk  it.  If  indo- 
lence or  timidity  had  checked  these  ex- 
ertions, or  suppressed  the  fruit  and 
publication  of  these  enquiries,  is  it  too 
much  to  affirm,  that  infidelity  would  at 
this  day  have  been  universal  ? 

I  do  not  mean,  my  Lord,  by  the 
mention  of  this  example,  to  insinuate, 
that  any  popular  opinion  which  your 
Lordship  may  have  encountered,  ought 
to  be  comDared  withtransubstantiation, 
or  that  the  assurance  with  which  we 
reject  that, extravagant  absurdity  is  at- 
tainable in  the  controversies  in  which 
your  Lordship  has  been  engaged  :  but 
I  mean,  by  calling  to  mind  those  great 
reformers  of  the  public  faith,  to  ob- 
serve, or  rather  to  express  my  own 
persuasion,  that  to  restore  the  purity, 
is  most  effectually  to  promote  the 
progress  of  Christianity  j  and  that  the 
same  virtuous  motive  which  hath  sanc- 
tified their  labours,  suggested  yours. 
At  a  time  when  some  men  appear  not 


C    vH    ] 

to  perceive  any  good,  and  others  to 
suspect  an  evil  tendency,  in  that  spirit 
of  examination  and  research  which  is 
gone  forth  in  Christian  countries,  this 
testimony  is  become  due  not  only  to 
the  probity  of  your  Lordship's  views, 
but  to  the  general  cause  of  intellectual 
and  religious  liberty. 

That  your  Lordship's  life  may  be 
prolonged  in  health  and  honour,  that  it 
may  continue  to  afford  an  instructive 
proof  how  serene  and  easy  old  age  can 
be  made  by  the  memory  of  inrportant 
and  well  intended  labours,  by  the  pos- 
session of  public  and  deserved  esteem, 
by  the  presence  of  many  grateful  rela- 
tives ;  above  all,  by  the  resources  of 
religion,  by  an  unshaken  confidence  in 
the  designs  of  a  *^  faithful  Creator,"  and 
a  settled  trust  in  the  truth  and  in  the 
promises  of  Christianity,  is  the  fervent 
prayer  of,  my  Lord, 

Your  Lordship's  dutiful, 
Most  obliged, 
And  most  devoted  Servant, 
WILLIAM  PALRY 

Carlisle,  Feb.  1.0,  1785; 


PREFACE. 


IN  the  treatises  that  I  have  met  with  upon  the  subject  of 
morals,  I  appear  to  myself  to  have  remarked  the  following 
imperfections — either  that  the  principle  was  erroneous,  or 
that  it  was  indistinctly  explained,  or  that  the  rules  deduced 
from  it  were  not  sufficiently  adapted  to  real  life  and  to  actual 
situations.  The  writings  of  Grotius,  and  the  larger  work^f 
Puffendorff,  are  of  too  forensic  a  cast,  too  much  mixed  up 
with  civil  law  and  with  the  jurisprudence  of  Germany,  to  an- 
swer precisely  the  design  of  a  system  of  ethics — the  direc- 
tion of  private  consciences  in  the  general  conduct  of  human 
life.  Perhaps,  indeed,  they  are  not  to  be  regarded  as  insti- 
tutes of  morality,  calculated  to  instruct  an  individual  in  his 
duty,  so  much  as  a  species  of  law  books  and  law  authorities, 
suited  to  the  practice  of  those  courts  of  justice,  whose  deci- 
sions are  regulated  by  general  principles  of  natural  equity,  in 
conjunction  with  the  maxims  of  the  Roman  code  :  of  which 
kind,  I  understand,  there  are  many  upon  the  Continent.  To 
which  may  be  added,  concerning  both  these  authors,  that  they 
are  more  occupied  in  describing  the  rights  and  usages  of  in- 
dependent communities,than  is  necessary  in  a  work  whcih  pro- 
fesses, not  to  adjust  the  correspondence  of  nations,  but  to  de- 
lineate the  offices  of  domestic  life.  The  profusion  also  of 
classical  quotations  with  which  many  of  their  pages  abound, 
seems  to  me  a  fault  from  which  it  will  not  be  easy  to  excuse 
them.  If  these  extracts  be  intended  as  decorations  of  style, 
the  composition  is  overloaded  with  ornaments  of  one  kind. 
To  any  thing  more  than  ornament  they  can  make  no  claim. 
To  propose  them  as  serious  arguments ;  gravely  to  attempt  to 
establish  or  fortify  a  moral  duty  by  the  testimony  of  a  Greek 
or  Roman  poet,  is  to  trifle  with  the  attention  of  the  reader, 
or  rather  to  take  it  off  from  all  just  principles  of  reasoning 
in  morals. 

Of  our  own  writers  in  this  branch  of  philosophy,!  find  none 
that  I  think  perfectly  free  from  the  three  objections  which  I 
have  stated.  There  is  likewise  a  fourth  property  observable 
almost  in  all  of  them,  namely,  that  they  divide  too  much  of 
the  law  of  nature  from  the  precepts  of  revelation  ;  some  au- 
thors industriously  declining  the  mention  of  scripture  au- 
thorities, as  belonging  to  a  different  province  ;  and  others 
reserving  them  for  a  separate  volume :  which  appears  t»  me 
B 


X  fllEFACE. 

jnuch  the  same  defect,  as  if  a  commentator  on  the  laws  of 
England  should  content  himself  with  stating  upon  each  head 
the  common  law  of  the  land,  without  taking  any  notice  ol  acts 
ef  parliament  ;  or  should  choose  to  give  his  readers  the  com- 
mon law  in  one  book,  and  the  statute  law  in  another.  "  When 
the  oliligations  of  morality  are  taught,"  says  a  pious  and  cel- 
ebrated writer,  "let  the  sanctions  of  Christianity  never  be 
forgotten  :  by  which  it  will  be  shewn  that  they  give  strength 
a'ld  lustre  to  each  other  :  religion  will  appear  to  be  the  voice 
of  reason,  and  morality  will  be  the  will  of  God."* 

The  manner  also  in  which  modern  writers  have  treated  of 
subjects  of  morality,  is  in  my  judgment  liable  to  much  excep- 
tion. It  has  become  of  late  a  fashion  to  deliver  moral  insti- 
tutes in  strings  or  sciies  of  detached  propositions,  without 
subjoining  a  continued  argument  or  regular  dissertation  to 
any  of  them.  This  senteniious,  apothegmatizing  style,  by 
crowding  propositions  and  paragraphs  too  fast  upon  the  mind, 
and  by  carrying  the  eye  of  the  reader  i"rom  subject  to  subject 
in  too  quick  a  succession,  gains  not  a  suflicient  hold  upon  the 
iittention,  to  leave  either  the  memory  fun^.ished,  or  the  un- 
dei Stan  ling  salisfied.  However  useful  a  nylabus  of  topics 
or  a  series  of  propositions  may  be  in  the  bauds  of  a  lecturer, 
or  as  a  guide  to  a  sludeiit,  who  is  supposed  to  consult  other 
books,  or  to  institute  upon  each  subject  researches  of  hisown, 
the  method  is  by  no  means  convenient  for  ordinary  readers  ; 
because  lew  readers  are  such  tlihikcra  as  to  want  only  a  hint 
to  set  their  thoughts  at  work  upon  ;  or  such  as  will  pause 
and  tarry  at  every  proposition,  till  they  have  traced  out  its 
dependency,  proof,  relation,  and  consequences,  before  they 
permit  themselves  to  step  on  to  another.  A  respectable  wri- 
ter of  this  classf  has  comprised  his  doctrine  of  slavery  in  the 
three  loliowing  propositions  : 

"No  one  is  born  a  slave,  because  every  one  is  born  with 
all  his  original  rights." 

"  No  one  can  become  a  slave,  because  no  one  from  being^ 
a  person  can,  in  tlie  language  of  llie  Roman  law,  become  a 
thing,  or  subject  of  pi'operty." 

"  The  supposed  property  of  the  master  in  the  slave,  there- 
fore, is  matter  of  usurpation,  not  of  right  " 

It  m;iy  be  possible  to  deduce  from  these  few  adages  such 
a  theory  of  the  primitive  rights  of  human  nature,  as  will 
evince  the  illegality  of  slavery  ;  but  surely  an  author  requires 
too  much  of  his  reader,  when  lie  expects  him  to  make  these 
deductions  for  himself;  or  to  supply,  perhaps  from  some  re- 
mote chapter  of  the  same  treatise,  the  several  proofs  and  ex- 

*  Preface  to  The  Preceptor,  by  Dr.  Johnson. -^ 

t  Dr.  rerg^bon,  iiutUor  of  "  Institutes  of  Moral  Pliilosophy,"  1767- 


PREFACK,  Xi 

planations  which  are  necessary  to  render  the  meaning  and 
truth  of  these  assertions  intelligible. 

There  is  a  fault,  the  opposite  of  this,  which  son-ie  moral- 
ists who  have  adopted  a  diflerent,  and  1  thiiik  a  better  plan 
of  composition,  have  not  always  bt-en  careful  to  avoid  ;  name- 
ly, the  d  we  I  lint?  upon  verbal  and  elemer.tary  di^tinctions  with 
a  labour  and  prolixity  proponioned  much  more  to  the  subtle- 
ty of  the  question,  than  to  its  value  and  importance  in  tho 
prosecution  of  the  subject.  A  writer  upon  the  law  of  na- 
ture,* whose  explications  in  every  part  of  philosopiiy,  thout^h 
always  diffuse,  are  often  very  successful,  has  employed  three 
long  sections  in  endeavouiiug  to  prove  that  "  permissions  are 
not  laws."  The  discussion  of  this  controversy,  however  es- 
sential it  might  be  to  dialectic  precision,  was  certainly  not 
necessary  to  the  progress  of  a  work  designed  to  describe  the 
duties  and  obligations  of  civil  lite.  The  reader  becomes  im- 
patient when  he  is  detained  by  disquisitions  which  have  no 
other  object  than  the  settling  of  terms  and  phrases;  and, 
what  is  worse,  they  for  wliose  use  such  books  are  chiefly  in- 
tended, will  not  be  persuaded  to  read  them  at  all. 

1  am  led  to  propose  these  stiictures,  not  by  any  propenbitv" 
to  depreciate  ttie  labours  of  my  predecessors,  mucli  less  to 
invite  a  comparison  between  tlie  merits  of  their  performan- 
ces and  my  own  ;  but  solely  by  the  consideration,  that  when 
a  writer  offers  a  book  to  the  public,  upon  a  subject  on  which 
the  public  are  already  in  possession  of  many  others, be  is  bound 
by  a  kind  of  literary  justice  to  inform  his  readers, distinctly  aiid 
specifically,  what  it  is  he  protesses  to  supply,  and  what  he 
expects  to  improve.  The  imperfections  above  enumerated 
are  those  which  1  have  endeavoured  to  avoid  or  remedy. 
Of  the  execution  the  reader  mu^t  judge  :  but  this  was  the 
design. 

Concerning  the  firindple  of  morals  it  would  be  premcitiire 
to  speak  ;  but  concerning  the  manner  of  unfolding  and  ex- 
plaining that  piinciple,  I  have  somewhat  which  1  wish  to  be 
remarked.  An  experience  of  nine  years  in  the  office  of  a 
public  tutor  in  one  of  the  universities,  and  in  that  depart- 
ment of  education  to  which  these  chapters  relate,  afforded 
me  frequent  occasions  to  observe,  that,  in  discoursing  to 
young  minds  upon  topics  of  morality,  it  required  much  more 
pains  to  make  them  perceive  the  difficulty,  than  to  under- 
stand the  solution  ;  that,  unless  th.i  subject  was  so  drawn  up 
to  a  point,  as  to  exhibit  the  full  force  of  an  objection,  or  the 
exact  place  of  a  doubt,  befoieany  explanation  was  entered 
upon — in  other  words,  unless  some  curiosity  was  excited  be- 
fore it  was  attempted  to  be  satisfied,  the  labour  of  the  teach ^ 

*  Dr.  Rutherforth,  author  of  "  Listitutes  of  Natiu'al  Law  " 


XU  PREFACE. 

er  was  lost.  When  information  was  not  de?,ired,  it  was  sel- 
dom, I  found,  retained.  I  huve  made  this  observation  my 
guide  in  the  following  work  :  that  is,  upon  each  occasion,  I 
have  endeavoured,  before  1  suffered  myself  to  proceed  in  the 
disquisition,  to  put  the  reader  in  complete  possession  of  the 
question  ;  and  to  do  it  in  the  way  that  I  thought  most  likely 
to  stir  up  his  own  doubts  and  solicitude  about  it. 

In  pursuing  the  pi'inciple  of  nriorals  through  the  detail  of 
cases  to  which  it  is  applicable,  I  have  had  in  view  to  accom- 
modate both  the  choice  of  the  subjects,  and  the  manner 
of  handling  them,  to  the  situations  which  arise  in  the  life  of 
an  inhabitant  of  this  country,  in  these  times.  This  is  the 
thing  that  I  think  to  be  principally  wanting  in  former  trea- 
tises ;  and  perhaps  the  chief  advantage  which  will  be  found  in 
mine.  1  have  examiijed  no  doubts,  I  have  discussed  no  obscu- 
rities,! have  encountered  no  errors,  I  have  adverted  to  no  con- 
ti'oversies,  but  what  I  have  seen  actually  to  exist.  If  some  of 
the  questions  treated  of  appear  to  a  more  instructed  reader 
minute  or  puerile,  I  desire  such  reader  to  be  assured  that  I 
have  found  them  occasions  of  difficulty  to  young  minds  ; 
and  what  I  have  observed  in  young  minds  I  should  expect 
to  meet  with  in  all  who  approach  these  subjects  for  the 
first  time.  Upon  each  article  of  human  duty,  1  have  combi- 
ned with  the  conclusions  of  reason  the  declarations  of  scrip- 
ture, when  they  are  to  be  had,  as  of  co-ordinate  authority,  and 
as  both  termin?.ling  in  the  same  sanctions. 

In  the  maimer  of  the  work,  I  have  endeavoured  so  to  at- 
temper the  opposite  plans  above  animadverted  upon,  as  that 
the  reader  may  not  accuse  ine  either  of  too  much  haste,  or 
loo  much  delay.  I  have  bestowed  upon  each  subject  enough 
of  dissertation  to  give  a  body  and  substance  to  the  chapter  in 
which  it  is  treated  of,  as  well  as  coherence  and  perspicuity  ; 
on  the  other  hand,  I  have  seldom,  I  hope,  exercised  the  pa- 
tience of  the  reader  by  the  length  and  prolixity  of  my  es- 
says, or  disappointed  that,  patience  at  last  by  the  tenuity  and 
imimportance  of  the  conclusion. 

There  are  two  particulars  in  the  following  work  for  which 
it  may  be  thought  necessary  that  I  should  offer  some  excuse. 
The  first  of  which  is,  that  I  have  scarcely  ever  referred  to 
any  other  book,  or  mentioned  the  name  of  the  author  whose 
thoughts,  and  sometimes,  possibly,  whose  very  expressions 
Ihave  adopted.  My  method  of  writing  has  constantly  been 
this ;  to  extract  what  I  could  from  my  own  stores  and  my 
own  reflections  in  the  first  place  ;  to  put  down  that ;  and  af- 
terwards to  consult  upon  each  subject  such  readings  as  fell 
in  my  way  :  which  order,  I  am  convinced,  is  the  only  one 
whereby  any  person  can  keep  his  thoughts  from  sliding  into 
■Dther  men's  trains.  The  effect  of  such  a  plan  upon  the  pro- 
(Juction  itself  will  be,  that,  whilst  some   parts  in  matter  oi- 


PREFACE.  Xni- 

manner  may  be  new,  others  will  be  little  else  than  a  repeti- 
tion of  the  old.     I  make  no  pretensions  to  perfect  originality  : 
I  claim  to  be  something  more  than  a  mere  compiler.     Much, 
no  doubt,  is  borrowed  ;  but  the  fact  is,  that  the  notes  for  this 
work  having  been  prepared  for  some  years,  and  such  things 
having  been  from  time  to  time  inserted  in  them  as  appeared 
to  me  worth  preserving,  and  such  insertions  made  commonly 
without  the  name  of  the  author  from  whom  they  were  taken, 
I  should,  at  this  time,  have  found  a  difficulty  in  recovering: 
these  names  with  sufficient  exactness  to  be  able  to  render  to 
every  man  his  own.     Nor,  to  speak  the  truth,  did  it  appear 
to  me  worth  while  to  repeat  the  search  merely  for  this  pur- 
pose.    When  authorities   are  relied  upon,  names  must  be 
produced  :    when  a  discovery  has  been  made  in  science,  it 
may  be  unjust  to  borrow  the  invention  without  acknowledg- 
ing the  author.     But  in   an  argumentative  treatise,  and  up- 
on a  subject  which  allows  no  place  for  discovery  or  invention, 
properly  so  called  ;  and  in  which  all  that  can  belong  to  a  wri- 
ter is  his  mode  of  reasoning,  or  his  judgment  of  pi^obabilities  ; 
I  should  have  thought  it  superfluous,   had  it  been  easier  to 
me  than  it  was,  to  have  interrupted  my  text,  or  crowded  my 
margin,  with  references  to  every  autlior  whose  sentiments  I 
have  made  use  of.     There  is,  however,  one  work,  to  which  I 
owe  so  much,  that  it  Avould  be  uiigrateful  not  to  confess  the 
obligation  :    I  mean  the  writings  oi  the  late  Abraham  Tuck- 
er, Esq.  part  of  which  were  published  by  himself,  and  the 
remainder  since  his  death,  under  the  title  of  "The  Light  of 
Nature  pursued,  by  Edward  Search,  Esq."     I  have  found  in 
this  writer  more  original  thinking  and  observation  upon  the 
several  subjects  that  he  has  taken  in  hand  than  in  any  other, 
not  to  say,  than  in  all  others   put  together.     His  talent  also 
for  illustration  is  unrivalled.     But  his  thoughts  are  diffused 
through  a  long,  various,  and  irregular  work.     I  shall  account 
it  no  mean  praise,  if  I  have  been  sometimes  able  to  dispose 
into  method,  to  collect  into  heads  and  articles,  or  to   exhibit 
in  more  compact  and  tangible  masses,  what,  in  that  other- 
wise excellent  performance,  is  spread  over  too  much  surface. 
The  next  circumstanc»j  for  which  some  apology  may  be  ex- 
pected, is  the  joining  of  moral  and  political  philosophy  togeth- 
er, or  the  addition  of  a  book  of  politics  to  a  system  of  ethics. 
Against  this  objection,  if  it  be  made  one,  I  might  defend  my- 
self by  the  example  of  many  approved  writers,   who  have 
treated  de  officiis  hominis  et  civis^  or,  as   some  choose  to  ex- 
press it,  "of  the  rights  and  obligations  of  man,  in  his  indi- 
vidual and  social  capacity,"  in  the  same  book.     I  might  allege, 
also,  that  the  part  a  member  of  the  commonwealth  shall  take  in 
political  contentions,  the  vote  he  shall  give,  the  councils  he 
shall  opprove,  the  support  he  shall  afford,  or  the  opposition 


XIV  PREFACE. 

he  shall  make,  to  any  system  of  public  measures — is  as  much 
a  question  of  personal  duty,  as  much  concerns  the  conscience 
of  the  individual  who  deliberates,  as  the  determination  of 
any  doubt  which  relates  to  the  conduct  of  private  life  ;  that 
consequently  political  phihjsophy  is,  propetly  speaking,  a 
continuation  of  moral  philosophy  ;  or  rather  indeed  a  pare 
of  it,  supposing  moral  philosophy  to  have  for  its  aim  the  in- 
foi  mation  of  the  human  conscience  in  every  deliberation  that 
is  likely  to  come  before  it.  I  might  avail  myself  of  these  ex- 
cuses, if  I  wanted  them  ;  but  the  vindication  upon  which  I 
rely  is  the  following.  In  stating  the  piinciple  of  morals,  the 
reader  will  observe  that  I  have  employed  some  industry  in 
explaining  the  theory,  and  shewing  the  necessity  of  general 
rules  ;  without  the  full  and  constant  consideration  of  which, 
I  am  persuaded  that  no  system  of  moral  philosophy  can  be 
satisfactory  or  consistent.  This  foundation  being  laid,  or  ra- 
ther this  habit  being  formed,  the  discussion  of  political  sub- 
jects, to  which,  more  than  to  almost  any  other,  general  rules 
are  applicable,  became  clear  and  easy.  Whereas,  had  these 
topics  been  assigned  to  a  distinct  work,  it  would  have  been 
necessary  to  have  repeated  the  same  rudiments,  to  have  es- 
tablished over  again  the  same  principles,  as  those  which  we 
had  already  exemplified,  and  rendered  familiar  to  the  reader, 
in  the  former  parts  of  this.  In  a  word,  if  there  appear  to  any 
one  too  great  a  diversity,  or  too  wide  a  distance,  between  the 
subject,  treated  of  in  the  co\irse  of  the  present  volume,  let 
him  be  reminded,  that  the  doctrine  of  general  rules  pervades 
and  connects  the  whole. 

It  may  not  be  improper,  however,  to  admonish  the  reader, 
that,  under  the  name  of  fiolitici^,  he  is  not  to  look  for  those 
occasional  controversies,  which  the  occurrences  of  the  pres- 
ent day,  or  any  temporary  situation  of  public  affairs,  may  ex- 
cite ;  and  most  of  which,  if  not  beneath  the  dignity,  it  is  be- 
side the  purpose  of  a  philosophical  institution  to  advert  to. 
He  will  perceive  that  the  several  disquisitions  are  framed  wit  h 
a  reference  to  the  condition  of  this  countiy,  and  of  this  gov- 
ernment; but  it  seemed  to  me  to  belong  to  the  design  of  a 
work  like  the  following,  not  so  much  to  discuss  each  silterca- 
ted  point  with  the  particularity  of  a  political  pamphlet  upon 
the  subject,  as  to  deliver  those  universal  prmciples,  and  to 
exhibit  that  mode  and  train  of  reasoning  in  politics,  by  the 
due  application  of  which  every  man  might  be  enabled  to  at- 
tain to  just  conclusions  of  his  own. 

I  am  not  ignorant  of  an  objection  that  has  been  advanced 
against  all  abstract  speculations  concerning  the  origin,  prin- 
ciple, or  limitation  of  civil  authority  ;  namely,  that  such  spec- 
ulations possess  little  or  no  influence  upon  the  conduct  either 
of  the  state  or  of  the  subject,  of  the  governors  or  the  govern- 


PREFACE.  XV 

ed  ;  nor  are  attended  with  any  useful  consequences  to  either; 
that  in  times  of  tranquility  they  are  not  wanted  ;    in  times  of 
confusion  they  are  never  hf:ard.     This  reprcscnt;ition  how- 
ever, in  my  opinion,  is  not  just.     Times  of  tumult)  it  io  trae> 
are  not  the  times  to  learn  ;    but  the  choice  which  men  make 
of  their  side  and  party,   in  the  most  critical  occasions  of  the 
commonwealth,    may   nevertheless  depend  upon  the  lessons 
they  liave  received,  the  books  they  have  read,  and  the  opin- 
ions they   have  imbibed,  in  seasons  of  leisure  and  quietness. 
Some  judicious  persons,  who  were  present  at  Geneva,  during 
the  troubles  whic  h  lately  convulsed  that  city,  thought  they  per- 
ceived, in  the  contenuons  there  carrying  on,  the  operation  of 
that  political  theory,  which  the  writings  of  Rosseau,  and  the 
unbounded  esteem   in   which  these  writings  are  held  by  his 
countrymen,  had  diflfused  amongst  the  people.     Throughout 
the  political  disputes  that  have   within  these  few  years  taken 
place  in  Great  Britain,  in  her  sister  kingdom,  and  in  hev  for- 
eign dependences,  it  was  impossible   not  to  observe,  in  the 
language  of  party,  in  the  resolutions  of  popular  meetings,  in 
debate,  in  conversation,  in  the  general  strain  of  those  fugitive 
and  diurnal  addi  esses  to  the  public  which  such  occasions  call 
forth,  the  prevalency  <jf  those  ideas  of  civil  authority  which 
are  displayed  in  the  works  of  Mr.  Lockc.     The  credit  of  that 
great  name,  the  courage  and  liberality  of  his  principles,  the 
skill  and  clearness  with  which  his  arguments  are  proposed, 
no  less  ihcin   the  weight  of  the  arguments  themselves,  have 
given  a  reputation  and   currency  to  his  opinions,  of  which  I 
am  persuaded,  in  any  unsettled  state  of  public  affairs,  the  in- 
fluence would  be  ft.lt.     As  this  is  not  a  place  for  examining 
the  truth  or  tendency  of  these  doctrines,  I  would  not  be  un- 
derstood, by  what  1  have  said,  to  express  any  judgment  con- 
cerning cither.     I  only  mean  to  remark,   that  such  doctrines 
arc  not  without  efiect ;    and  that  it  is  oi practical  importance 
to  have  the  principles  from  which   the  obligations  of  social 
union,  and  the  extent  of  civil  obedience  are   derived,  rightly 
explained  and  well  understood.     Indeed,  as  far  as  I  have  ob- 
served, in  political,  beyond  all  other  subjects,  where  men  are 
without  some  fundamental  and  sciendfic  principles  to   resort 
to,  they  are  liable  to  have  their  understandings  played  upon 
by  cant  phrases  and  unmeaning  terms,  of  vvhich  every  party 
in  every  country  possess  a  vocabulary.      We  appear  asionish- 
cd  when  we  see  the  multitude   led  away  by  sounds  ;  but  we 
should  rememVer,  that  if  sounds  work  miracles,  it  is  always 
upon  ignorance.     The  influence  of  names  is  in  exact  propor- 
tion to  the  want  of  knowledge. 

Tiiese  are  tlie  observations  with  which  I  have  judged  it  ex- 
pedient to  prepare  the  attention  of  my  reader.  Concerning  the 
personal  moiivos  which  engaged  me  in  the  following  attempt. 


XVI  PREFACE. 

it  is  not  necessary  that  I  say  much  ;  the  nature  of  my  aca- 
demical situation,  a  great  deal  of  leisure  since  my  retirement 
from  it,  the  recommendation  of  an  honoured  and  excellent 
friend,  the  authority  of  the  venerable  prelate  to  whom  these 
labours  are  inscribed,  the  not  perceiving  in  what  way  I  could 
employ  my  time  or  talents  better,  and  my  disapprobation 
in  literary  men  of  that  fastidious  indolence  which  sits  still 
because  it  disdains  to  do  little^  were  the  considerations  that 
directed  my  thoughts  to  this  design.  Nor  have  I  repented 
of  the  yndertaking.  Whatever  be  the  fate  or  reception  of 
this  work,  it  owes  its  author  nothing.  In  sickness  and  in 
health  I  have  found  in  it  that  which  can  alone  alleviate  the 
one,  or  give  enjoyment  to  the  other — occupation  and  en- 
gagement. 


CONTENTS. 


BOOK  I. 

PRELIMINARY    CONSIDERATIONS. 

» 

Chap. 
I. 

IL 

HI. 

IV. 
V. 

Definition  and  use  of  the  Science 
The  Law  of  Honour 
The  Law  of  the  Land         -         -         _ 
The  Scriptures            -         -         -         - 
The  Moral  Sense       -         -         -         - 

- 

page; 
23 
ib. 
24 
26 
28 

VI. 
VII. 

Human  Happiness      -         -         -         « 
Virtue      ------ 

- 

36 

48 

BOOK  II. 

MORAL    OBLIGATION. 

I.  The  Question,  Why  am  I  obhged  to  keep  my  word  .'* 

considered  -----         56 

II.  What  we  mean,  when  we  say  a  man  is  obliged  to 

do  a  Thing  -----         57 

III.  The  Question,  Why  am  I  obliged  to  keep  my  word  ? 

resumed         ------         59 

IV.  The  Will  of  God  -         -         -         -         61 

V.  The  Divine  Benevolence  -         -         -         63 

VI.  Utility  .         .         .         -         -         ~         66 

VII.  The  Necessity  of  General  Rules  ~         -         68 

VIII.  The  Consideration  of  General  Consequences  pur- 

sued              ------  70 

IX.  Of  Right 73 

X.  The  Division  of  Rights                -         _         -  75 
XL       The  General  Rights  of  Mankind         .         -  80 

BOOK  TIL 

RELATIVE   DUTIES. 
PART  I. — OF  RELATIVE  DUTIES  "WHICH  ARE  DETERMINATE. 

I.         Of  Property  87 

IL       The  U^e  of  the  Institution  of  Property         -         SS 
c 


sviii  CONTENTS. 

CHAP.  PAGE. 

III.  The  History  of  Property         -          -         -  *  90 

IV.  In  what  the  Right  of  Property  is  founded  92 

V.  Promises         »----_  97 

VI.  Contracts       -         -         -         -         -         -  109 

VII.  Contracts  of  Sale              -         -         -         -  110 

VIII.  Contracts  of  Hazard        -         -         -         -  113 

IX.  Contracts  of  lending  inconsumable  Property  115 

X.  Contracts  concerning  the  lending  of  Money  117 

XI.  Contracts  of  Labour — Service             -         -  122 

XII. Commissions          -         -  125 

XIIL Partnership            -         -  128 

XIV. Offices  -         --      -  "      129 

XV.  Lies 132 

XVL  Oaths             - 136 

XVII.  Oaths  in  Evidence      .-         -         -         -  142 

XVIII.  Oaths  of  Allegiance         -         -         -          -  143 

XIX.  Oath  against  Bribery  in  the  Election  of  Members 

of  Parliament                 -         -         -         -  146 

XX.  Oath  against  Simony       -         -         -         -  147 

XXI.  Oaths  to  observe  local  Statutes          -       '  -  150 

XXII.  Subscription  to  Articles  of  Religion            -  151 

XXIII.  Wills  - .153 


BOOK  m. 

PART  II. — OF  RELATIVE    DUTIES  WHICH  ARE  INDETERMI- 
NATE, AND  OF  THE  CRIMES  OPPOSED  TO  THESE. 


I. 

II. 

Charity            _         _         .         _ 
Charity — ^The  treatment  of  our 

Domestics  and 

159 

III. 

Dependants 

Slavery 

- 

- 

- 

160 
161 

IV. 

Charity — Professional  Assistance 

- 

. 

164 

V. 

VI. 

Charity — Pecuniary 
Resentment 

Bounty 

- 

- 

167 
176 

VII. 
VIII 
IX. 

Anger 
.  Revenge 
Duelling 

- 

- 

- 

ibid. 
179 
183 

X. 

XI. 
XII. 

Litigation 
Gratitude 
Slander 

- 

- 

- 

186 
189 
191 

CONTENT^.  xjx 

BOOK  III. 

PART  III. — OF  RELATIVE  DUTIES  WHICH  RESULT  FROM 
THE  CONSTITUTION  OF  THE  SEXES,  AND  OF  THE  CRIMES 
OPPOSITE  TO  THESE. 

CHAP.  PACE. 

I.  Of  the  public  Use  of  Marriage  Institutions  194' 

II.  Fornication  -         -         -          -         -  196 

III.  Seduction  -         -         -         -         -         -  201 

IV.  Adultery 204 

V.  Incest  -         -  -         -         -         _  i'08 

VI.  Polygamy 209 

VII.  Of  Divorce  213 

VIII.  Marriage 221 

IX.  ■  Of  thf>  Duty  of  Parents  -         -         -         224 

X.  The  Rights  of  Parents  -         -         _         237 
XL      The  Duty  of  Children       -         -         -         .         239 

BOOK  IV. 

DUTIES  TO  OURSELVES,  AND  THE  CRIMES  OPPOSITE  TO  THESEo 

I.  The  Rights  of  Self-Defence       -         -         -         244 

II.  Drunkenness  -         -         >         _         _         247 

III.  Suicide  ------         252 

BOOK  V. 

DUTIES  TOWARDS  GOD. 

I.  Division  of  these  Duties  _         -         -  259 

II.  Of  the  Duty  and  of  the  Efficacy  of  Prayer,  so  far  as 

the  same  appear  from  the  Light  of  Nature  260 

III.  Of  the  Duty  and  Efficacy  of  Pray  er>  as  represented 

in  Scripture  _         -         _         -         _  2Q6 

IV.  Of  private  Prayer,  family  Prayer,  and  public  Wor- 

ship .-,---         269 

V.  Of  forms  of  Prayer  in  Public  Worship         -         275 

VI.  Of  the  Use  of  Sabbatical  Institutions  -         281 
VIL     Oi  the  Scripture  account  of  Sabbatical  Institutions  283 

VIII.  By  what  Acts  and  Omissions  the  duty  of  the  Chris- 

tian Sabbath  is  violated  -         _         -         295 

IX.  Of  reverencing  the  Deity  -         -         -         297 


TK  CONTE'NT'S. 

BOOK  VI. 

ELEMENTS  OF  POLITICAL  KNOWLEDGE. 

CHAP.  PAGE. 

I.  Of  the  Orign  o  Civil  Government  -  305 

II.  How  subjectior^toCivil Government  is  maintained  309 
TIL      The  Duty  of  Submission  to  Civil  Government  ex- 
plained        -         -         -         -         -         -         315 

IV.  Of  the  Duty  of  Civil  Obedience,  as  stated  in  the 

Christian  Scriptures       -         -         -  -  327 

V.  Of  Civil  Liberty 335 

VI.  Of  different  forms  of  Government  -  340 

VII.  Ol-  the  British  Constitution         -         _         _  349 

VIII.  Of  the  Administration  of  Justice        -  -  374 

IX.  Of  Crimes  and  Punishments      -         -         -  395 

X.  Of  Religious  Establishments,  and  of  Toleration  415 
XL  Of  Population  and  Provision  ;  and  of  Agriculture 

and  Commerce,  as  subservient  thereto  440 

XII.     Of  War,  and  of  MiHtary  Establishments  477 


BOOK    I. 


Preliminary  Considerations. 


CHAPTER  I. 
DEFINITION  AND  USE  OF  THE  SCIENCE. 

Moral  philosophy,  Morality,  Eth- 
ics,  Casuisty,  Natural  Law,  mean  all  the  same  thing  ; 
namely,  That  Science  which  teaches  men  their  duty, 
and  the  reasons  of  it. 

The  use  of  such  a  study  depends  upon  this,  that, 
without  it,  the  rules  of  life,  by  which  men  are  ordi- 
narily governed,  oftentimes  mislead  them,  through  a 
defect  either  in  the  rule,  or  in  the  application. 

These  rules  are,  the  Law  of  Honour,  the  Law  of 
the  Land,  and  the  Scriptures. 


CHAPTER  II. 
THE  LAW  OF  HONOUR. 

1  HE  Law  of  Honour  is  a  system  of  rules  con- 
structed by  people  of  fashion,  and  calculated  to  fa- 
cilitate their  intercourse  with  one  another  ;  and  for 
no  other  purpose. 


^4f  The  Law  of  the  Land, 

Consequently,  nothing  is  adverted  to  by  the  Law 
of  Honour,  but  what  tends  to  incommode  this  inter- 
course. 

Hence,  this  law  only  prescribes  and  regulates  the 
duties  betwixt  equals ;  omitting  such  as  relate  to  the 
Supreme  Being,  as  well  as  those  which  we  owe  to 
our  inferiors. 

For  which  reason,  profaneness,  neglect  of  public 
worship  or  private  devotion,  cruelty  to  servants,  rig- 
orous treatment  of  tenants  or  other  dependants,  want 
of  charity  to  the  poor,  injuries  done  to  tradesmen  by 
insolvency  or  delav  of  payment,  with  numberless 
examples  of  the  same  kind,  are  accounted  no  breach- 
es of  honour  ;  because  a  man  is  not  a  less  agree- 
able companion  for  these  vices,  nor  the  v\^orse  to 
deal  with,  in  those  concerns  which  are  usually 
transacted  between  one  gentleman  and  another. 

Again,the  Law  of  Honour  being  constituted  by  men 
occupied  in  the  pursuit  of  pleasure,  and  for  the  mu- 
tual conveniency  of  such  men,  will  be  found,  as 
might  be  expected  from  the  character  and  design  of 
the  law-makers,  to  be,  in  most  instances,  favourable 
to  the  licentious  indulgence  of  the  natural  passions. 

Thus  it  allows  of  fornication,  adultery,  drunken- 
ness, prodigality,  duelling,  and  of  revenge  in  the  ex- 
treme; and  lays  no  stress  upon  the  virtues  opposite 
to  these. 


CHAPTER   in. 
THE  LAW  OF  THE  LAND. 

i  IL\T  part  of  mankind  who  are  beneath  the 
Law  of  Honour,  often  make  the  Law  of  the  Land 
the  rule  of  life ;  that  is,  they  are  satisfied  with 
themselves,  so  long  as  they  do  or  omit  nothing,  for 
the  doing  or  omitting  of  which  the  Law  can  punish 
them.ll ' 


The  Law  of  the  Land.  95 

Whereas  every  system  of  human  Laws,  considered 
as  a  rule  of  Ufe,  hibours  under  the  two  following- 
defects  : 

I.  Human  Laws  omit  many  duties,  as  not  objects 
of  compulsion  ;  such  as  piety  to  God,  bounty  to  the 
poor,  forgiveness  of  injuries,  education  of  children, 
gratitude  to  benefactors. 

The  law  never  speaks  but  to  command,  nor  com- 
mands but  where  it  can  compel  ;  consequently  those 
duties,  which  by  their  nature  must  be  Wz/w/.'/rj/,  are 
left  out  of  the  statute  book,  as  lying  beyond  the 
reach  of  its  operation  and  authority. 

IL  Human  Laws  permit,  or,  which  is  the  same 
thing,  suffer  to  go  unpunished,  many  crimes,  because 
they  are  incapable  of  being  defined  by  any  previous 
description — Of  which  nature  is  luxury,  prodigality, 
partiality  in  voting  at  those  elections  in  which  the 
qualification  of  the  candidate  ought  to  determine 
the  success,  caprice  in  the  disposition  of  men's  for- 
tunes at  their  death,  disrespect  to  parents,  and  a 
multitude  of  similar  examples. 

For  this  is  the  alternative ;  either  the  Law  must 
define  beforehand  and  with  precision  the  offences 
which  it  punishes,  or  it  must  be  left  to  the  discretion 
of  the  magistrate  to  determine  upon  each  particular 
accusation,  whether  it  constitutes  that  offence  which 
the  Law  designed  to  punish,  or  not ;  which  is  in  ef- 
fect leaving  to  the  magistrate  to  punish  or  not  to 
punish,  at  his  pleasure,  the  individual  who  is  brought 
before  him;  which  is  just  so  much  tyranny.  V/here, 
therefore,  as  in  the  instances  above-mentioned,  the 
distinction  between  right  and  wrong  is  of  too  subtile, 
or  of  two  secret  a  nature,  to  be  ascertained  by  any 
preconcerted  language,  the  lav/  of  most  countries, 
especially  of  free  states,  rather  than  commit  the  lib- 
erty of  the  subject  to  the  discretion  of  the  magistrate, 
leaves  men  in  such  cases  to  th.envselves. 


26  The  Scriptures. 

CHAPTER  IV. 
THE  SCRIPTURES. 

\l\'  HOEVER  expects  to  find  in  the  Scriptures 
a  specific  direction  for  every  moral  doubt  that  arises, 
looks  for  more  than  he  will  meet  with.  And  to 
what  a  magnitude  such  a  detail  of  particular  precepts 
would  have  enlarged  the  sacred  volume,  may  be  part- 
ly understood  from  the  following  consideration. — 
The  laws  of  this  country,  including  the  acts  of  the 
legislature  and  the  decisions  of  our  supreme  courts 
of  justice,  are  not  contained  in  fewer  than  fifty  folio 
volumes  j  and  yet  it  is  not  once  in  ten  attempts 
that  you  can  find  the  case  you  look  for,  in  any  law- 
book whatever ;  to  say  nothing  of  those  numerous 
points  of  conduct,  concerning  which  the  law  profes- 
ses not  to  prescribe  or  determine  any  thing.  Had 
then  the  same  particularity,  which  obtains  in  human 
laws  so  far  as  they  go,  been  attempted  in  the  Scrip- 
tures, throughout  the  whole  extent  of  morality,  it  is 
manifest,  they  would  have  been  by  much  too  bulky 
to  be  either  read  or  circulated;  or  rather,  as  Sf.  John 
says,  "  even  the  Vv^orld  itself  could  not  contain  the 
books  that  should  be  written." 

Morality  is  taught  in  Scripture  in  this  wise.  Gen- 
eral rules  are  laid  down  of  piety,  justice,  benevo- 
lence, and  purity  :  such  as  worshipping  God  in  spirit 
and  in  truth ;  doing  as  we  would  be  done  by  ; 
loving  our  neighbour  as  ourself ;  forgiving  others, 
as  we  expect  forgiveness  from  God  ;  that  mercy  is 
better  than  sacrifice  ;  thar  not  that  which  entereth 
into  a  man  (nor,  by  parity  of  reason,  any  ceremoni- 
al pollutions)  but  that  which  proccedeth  from  the 
heart,  dcfileth  him.  These  rules  are  occasionally  il- 
lustrated, either  by  fictitious  examples,  as  in  the  para- 
ble of  the  good  Samaritan  ;  and  of  the  cruel  ser- 
vant, who  refused    to  his  fellow-servant  that  indul- 


The  Scripiureu  27 

gence  and  compassion  which  his  niaster  had  shewn 
to  him  :  or  in  instances  which  actually  presented  them- 
selves, as  in  Christ's  reproof  of  his  disciples  at  the 
Samaritan  village ;  his  praise  of  the  poor  widow, 
who  cast  in  her  last  mite  ;  his  censure  of  the  Phari- 
sees who  chose  out  the  chief  rooms— and  of  the  tra- 
dition, whereby  they  evaded  the  command  to  sus- 
tain their  indigent  parents :  or  lastly^  in  the  resolution 
of  questions,  which  those  who  were  about  our  Saviour 
proposed  to  him,  as  in  his  answer  to  the  young  man  who 
asked  him,  "  What  lack  I  yet?'*  and  to  the  honest 
scribe  who  had  found  out,  even  in  that  age  and  coun- 
try, that  "  to  love  God  and  his  neighbour  was  more 
than  all  whole  burnt-offerings  and  sacrifice." 

And  this  is  in  truth  the  way  in  which  all  practical 
sciences  are  taught,  as  Arithmetic,  Grammar,  Navi- 
gation, and  the  like.  Rules  are  laid  down,  and  ex- 
amples are  subjoined  ;  not  that  these  examples  are 
the  cases,  much  less  all  the  cases  which  will  actually 
occur,  but  by  way  only  of  explaining  the  principal  of 
the  rule,  and  as  so  many  specimens  of  the  method  of 
applying  it.  The  chief  difference  is,  that  the  exam- 
ples in  Scripture  are  not  annexed  to  the  rules 
with  the  didactic  regularity  to  which  we  are  now- 
a-days  accubtomed,  but  delivered  dispcrsedly,  as 
particular  occasions  suggested  them  ;  which  gave 
them,  however,  especially  to  those  M'ho  heard  them, 
and  were  present  to  the  occasions  which  produced 
them,  an  energy  and  persuasion,  much  beyond  what 
the  satne  or  any  instances  would  have  appeared  with, 
in  their  places  in  a  system. 

Beside  this,  the  Scriptures  commonly  presuppose, 
in  the  persons  to  whom  they  speak,  a  knowledge  of 
the  principles  of  natural  justice  ;  and  are  employed 
not  so  much  to  teach  new  rules  of  morality,  as  to  en- 
force the  practice  of  it  by  new  sanctions,  and  by  a 
greater  certainty  ;  which  last  seetns  to  be  the  proper 
business  of  a  revelation  from  God,  and  what  was 
most  wanted. 


28  The  Moral  Sense. 

Thus  the  "  unjust,  covenant  breakers,  and  extor- 
tioners," are  condtmned  in  Scripture,  supposing  it 
known,  or  leaving  it,  where  it  admits  of  doubt,  to 
moralists  to  determine,  what  injustice,  extortion,  or 
breach  of  covenant,  is. 

The  above  considerations  are  intended  to  prove 
that  the  Scriptures  do  not  supersede  the  use  of  the 
science  of  which  we  profess  to  treat,  and  at  the  same 
time  to  acquit  them  of  any  charge  of  imperfection 
or  insufficiency  on  that  account. 


CHAPTER    V. 

THE  MORAL  SENSE. 

1  HE  father  of  Cuius  Toranius  had  been  pro- 
scribed by  the  triumvirate.  Cuius  Toranius,  coming 
over  to  the  interests  of  that  party,  discovered  to  the 
officers,  who  were  in  pursuit  of  his  father's  life,  the 
place  where  he  concealed  himself,  and  gave  them 
withal  a  description,  by  which  they  might  distinguish 
his  person  when  they  found  him.  The  old  man, 
more  anxious  for  the  safety  and  fortunes  of  his  son, 
than  about  the  little  that  might  remain  of  his  own  life, 
began  immediately  to  inquire  of  the  officers  who 
seized  him,  whether  his  son  was  well,  whether  he 
had  done  his  duty  to  the  satisfaction  of  his  generals. 
That  son,  replied  one  of  the  officers,  so  dear  to  thy 
affections,  betrayed  thee  to  us  ;  by  his  information 
thou  art  apprehended,  and  diest.  The  officer  with 
this  struck  a  poniard  to  his  heart,  and  the  unhappy 
parent  fell,  not  so  much  affected  by  his  fate,  as  by  the 
means  to  which  he  owed  it.*" 


'  '  Caius'I'oranius  triumvirum  partes  secutus,proscripti  p;ilris  \itl  prato. 
rii  et  ovnati  viri  latebras,  ajtatem  notasque  corporis,  quihiis  agnosci  posicr, 
centurionibus  t-tiidit  qui  euni  perseciri  sunt.  Senexde  filii  inasjis  vita,  et  iii- 
crementis,  <;ii'.m  c!e  reliquo  spirku  suo  solicitus:  an  iiicoUim!?  esset,  et  an 
im])erator  lu:s  satisfaceret,  interrogare  eos  ccepit.  Equihus  unus  :  abillo, 
ijiquii,  qiieni  tantopere  tliligis,  demonstratu?,  nv)ftro  ministreio,  filii  indicio 


The  Moral  Sense.  29 

Now  the  question  is,  whether,  if  this  story  were 
related  to  the  wild  boy,  caught  some  years  ago  in 
the  woods  of  Hanover,  or  to  a  savage  without  expe- 
rience, and  without  instruction,  cut  off  in  his  infan- 
cy from  all  intercourse  with  his  species,  and  conse- 
quently, under  no  possible  influence  of  example,  au- 
thority, education,  sympathy,  or  habit ;  whether,  I 
say,  such  a  one  would  feel,  upon  the  relation,  any 
degree  of  that  sentiment  of  disapprobation  of  Toranius* 
conduct  which  we  feel,  or  not. 

They  who  maintain  the  existence  of  a  mor?l  sense 
— of  innate  maxims — of  a  natural  conscience — that 
the  love  of  virtue  and  hatred  of  vice  are  instinctive 
— or  the  perception  of  right  and  wrong  intuitive  (all 
which  are  only  different  ways  of  expressing  the  same 
opinion)  affirm  that  he  would. 

They  who  deny  the  existence  of  a  moral  sense,  &c.  • 
affirm  that  he  would  not. 

And,  upon  this,  issue  is  joined. 

As  the  experiment  has  never  been  made,  and  from 
the  difficulty  of  procuring  a  subject  (not  to  mention 
the  impossibility  of  proposing  the  question  to  him,  if 
we  had  one)  is  never  likely  to  be  made,  what  would 
be  the  event,  can  only  be  judged  of  from  probable 
reasons. 

Those  who  contend  for  the  affirmative,  observe,  that 
we  approve  examples  of  generosity,  gratitude,  fideli- 
ty, &c.  and  condemn  the  contrary,  instantly,  without 
deliberation,  without  having  any  interest  of  our  own 
concerned  in  them ;  ofttimes  without  being  con- 
scious of,  or  able  to  give,  any  reason  for  our  appro- 
bation ;  that  this  approbation  is  uniform  and  univer- 
sal ;  the  same  sorts  of  conduct  being  approved  or 
disapproved  in  all  ages  and  countries  of  the  world — 
circumstances,  say  they,  which  strongly  indicate  the 
operation  of  an  instinct  or  moral  sense. 

occideris  ;  protinusque   pectus   ejus   gladio  trajecit.     Co.'iapsus   itaque  est 
infelix,  auctore  CKdis,  quam  ipsac?Edc,miserior." 

Valer.  Max.  Lib.  IX.  Cap.  11. 


30  The  Moral  Sense. 

On  the  other  hand,  answers  have  been  given  to 
most  of  these  arguments,  by  the  patrons  of  the  oppo- 
site system :  and, 

First,  as  to  the  nmformity  above  alleged,  they  con- 
trovert the  fact.  They  remark,  from  authentic  ac- 
counts of  historians  and  travellers,  that  there  is  scarce- 
ly a  single  vice,  which  in  some  age  or  country  of  the 
world  has  not  been  countenanced  by  public  opinion ; 
that  in  one  country  it  is  esteemed  an  office  of  piety 
in  children  to  sustain  their  aged  parents,  in  another 
to  dispatch  them  out  of  the  way  ;  that  suicide  in  one 
age  of  the  world,  has  been  heroism,  in  another  fel- 
ony ;  that  theft,  which  is  punished  by  most  laws, 
by  the  laws  of  Sparta  was  not  unfrequently  reward- 
ed ;  that  the  promiscuous  commerce  of  the  sexes,  al- 
though condemned  by  the  regulations  and  censure 
of  all  civilized  nations,  is  practised  by  the  savages  of 
the  tropical  regions,  without  reserve,  compunction, 
or  disgrace ;  that  crimes,  of  which  it  is  no  longer 
permitted  us  even  to  speak,  have  had  their  advocates 
among  the  sages  of  very  renowned  times ;  that,  if 
an  inhabitant  of  the  polished  nations  of  Europe  is  de- 
lighted with  the  appearance,  wherever  he  meets 
with  it,  of  happiness,  tranquility,  and  comfort,  a 
wild  American  is  no  less  diverted  with  the  writhings 
and  contortions  of  a  victim  at  the  stake  ;  that  even 
amonest  ourselves,  and  in  the  present  improved  state 
of  moi  al  knowledo[e,  we  are  far  from  a  perfect  con- 
sent in  our  opinions  or  feelings  ;  that  you  shall  hear 
duellingalternately  reprobated  and  applauded,  accord- 
ing to  the  sex,  age,  or  station  of  the  person  you  con- 
verse with;  that  the  forgiveness  of  injuries  and  insults 
is  accounted  by  one  sort  of  people  magnanimity,  by 
another,  meanness ;  that  in  the  above  instances,  and 
perhaps  in  most  others,  moral  approbation  follows 
the  fashions  and  institutions  of  the  country  we  live 
in  ;  which  fashions  also,  and  institutions  themselves, 
have  grown  out  of  the  exigences,  the  climate,  situ- 
ation, or  local  circumstances   of  the   country  5    or 


The  Moral  Sense.  31 

have  been  set  up  by  the  authority  of  an  arbitrary  chief- 
tain, or  the  unaccountable  caprice  of  the  muhitude 
— all  which,  they  observe,  looks  very  little  like  the 
steady  hand  and  indelible  characters  of  nature.     But, 

Secondly,  because,  after  these  exceptions  and  abate- 
ments, it  cannot  be  denied,  but  that  some  sorts  of 
actions  command  and  receive  the  esteem  of  mankind 
more  than  others  ;  and  that  the  approbation  of  them 
is  general,  though  not  universal :  as  to  this  they  say, 
that  the  general  approbation  of  virtue,  even  in  instan- 
ces where  we  have  no  interest  of  our  own  to  induce  us 
to  it,  may  be  accounted  for,  without  the  assistance  of 
a  moral  sense  :  thus, 

"  Having  experienced ,  in  some  instance,  a  particu- 
lar conduct  to  be  beneficial  to  ourselves,  or  observed 
that  it  would  be  so,  a  sentiment  of  approbation  rises 
up  in  our  minds,  which  sentiment  afterwards  ac- 
companies the  idea  or  mention  of  the  same  conduct, 
although  the  private  advantage  which  first  excited  it 
no  longer  exist." 

And  this  continuance  of  the  passion,  after  the 
reason  of  it  has  ceased,  is  nothing  more,  say  they,  than 
what  happens  in  other  cases  ;  especially  in  the  love 
of  money,  which  is  in  no  person  so  eager,  as  it  is 
oftentimes  found  to  be  in  a  rich  old  miser,  without 
family  to  provide  for,  or  friend  to  oblige  by  it,  and 
to  whom  consequently  it  is  no  longer,  (and  he  may 
be  sensible  of  it  too)  of  any  real  use  or  value :  yet 
is  this  man  as  much  overjoyed  with  gain,  and  mortified 
by  losses,  as  he  was  the  first  day  he  opened  his  shop, 
and  when  his  very  subsistence  depended  upon  his  suc- 
cess in  it. 

By  these  means,  the  custom  of  approving  certain 
actions  commenced ;  and  when  once  such  a  custom 
hath  got  footing  in  the  world,  it  is  no  difficult 
thing  to  explain  how  it  is  transmitted  and  continu- 
ed ;  for  then  the  greatest  part  of  those  who  approve  of 
virtue,  approve  of  it  from  authority,  by  imitation, 

E 


32  The  Moral  Sense. 

and  from  a  habit  of  approving  such  and  such  actions, 
inculcated  in  early  youth,  and  receiving,  as  men 
grow  up,  continual  accessions  of  strength  and  vigor, 
from  censure  and  encouragement,  from  the  books 
they  read,  the  conversations  they  hear,  the  current 
application  of  epithets,  the  general  turn  of  language^ 
and  the  various  other  causes,  by  which  it  universal- 
ly comes  to  pass,  that  a  society  of  men,  touched  in 
the  feeblest  degree  with  the  same  passion,  soon  com- 
municate to  one  another  a  great  degree  of  it.* 
This  is  the  case  with  most  of  us  at  present ;  and  is 
the  cause  also,  that  the  process  of  association-,  described 
in  the  last  paragraph  but  one,  is  little  now  either  per- 
ceived or  wanted. 

Amongst  the  causes  assigned  for  the  continuance 
and  diffusion  of  the  same  moral  sentiments  amongst 
mankind,  we  h^ve  mentioned  i?nitatio?i.  The  effica- 
cy of  this  principle  is  most  observable  in  children ; 
indeed,  if  there  be  any  thing  in  them  which  deserves 
the  name  of  an  instinct^  it  is  their  propensity  to  imitation. 
Now  there  is  nothing  which  children  imitate  or  ap- 
ply more  readily  than  expressions  of  affection  and 
aversion,  of  approbation,  hatred,  resentment,  and  the 
like ;  and  when  these  passions  and  expressions  are 
once  connected,  which  they  soon  will  be  by  the  same 
association  which  unites  words  with  their  ideas,  the 
passion  will  follov\^  the  expression,  and  attach  upon 
the  object  to  which  the  child  has  been  accustomed  to 
apply  the  epithet.  In  a  word,  when  almost  every 
thing  else  is  learned  by  imitation,  can  we  wonder  to 
find   the  same  cause  concerned  in  the  veneration   of 

o 

our  moral  sentiments  ? 

*"  From  instances  of  popular  tumults,  seditions,  factions,  panics,  and  of 
all  passions,  which  are  shared  wiili  a  niuitituue,  we  may  learn  «he  influence 
of  society  in  exciting-  and  supporting  ..nv  emotion  :  while  the  most  ungov- 
ernable disorders  are  raided  we  find  by  that  mcaus,  from  the  slightest  and 
most  frivolous  occasions.  Ke  must  be  more  or  ess  than  man.  who  kindles 
not  in  the  comnnn  bhze.  Wh  -t  wondt-r,  then  that  mora!  sentiments  are 
found  of  such  influence  in  life  thout^h  springing  from  principles,  which  may 
appear,  at  iirst  sight,  somevvliat  small  and  delicate  ?" 

Humes  Inquiry  concernir^  the  Principles  of  Morals,  Sect.  IX.  f>.  j26. 


The  Moral  Sense*  33 

Another  considerable  objection  to  the  system  of 
moral  instinct  is  this,  that  there  are  no  maxims  in 
the  science,  which  can  well  be  deemed  innate,  as  none 
perhaps  can  be  assigned,  which  are  absolutely  and  u- 
niversally  true ;  in  other  words,  which  do  not  bend 
to  circumstances.  Veracity,  which  seems,  if  any  be,  a 
natural  duty,  is  excused  in  many  cases,  towards  an 
enemy,  a  thief,  or  a  madman.  The  obligation  of 
promises,  which  is  a  first  principle  in  morality,  de- 
pends upon  the  circumstances  under  which  they  were 
made  :  they  may  have  been  unlawful,  or  become  so 
since,  or  inconsistent  with  former  promises,  or  erro- 
neous, or  extorted  ;  under  all  which  cases,  instances 
may  be  suggested,  where  the  obligation  to  perform 
the  promise  would  be  very  dubious,  and  so  of  most 
other  general  rules,  when  they  come  to  be  actually 
applied. 

An  argument  has  also  been  proposed  on  the  same 
side  of  the  question  of  this  kind.  Together  with 
the  instinct,  there  must  have  been  implanted,  it  is 
said,  a  clear  and  precise  idea  of  the  object  upon 
which  it  was  to  attach.  The  instinct  and  the  idea 
of  the  object  are  inseparable  even  in  imagination,  and 
as  necessarily  accompany  each  other  as  any  correla- 
tive ideas  whatever  ;  that  is,  in  plainer  terms,  if  we 
be  prom])ted  by  nature  to  the  approbation  of  partic- 
ular actions,  we  must  have  received  also  from  nature 
a  distinct  conception  of  the  action  we  are  thus 
promted  to  approve  j  which  we  certainly  have-not 
received. 

But  as  this  argument  bears  alike  against  all  in- 
stincts, and  against  their  existence  in  brutes  as  well  as 
in  men,  it  will  hardly,  I  suppose,  produce  convic- 
tion, though  it  may  be  difficult  to  find  an  answer  to  it. 

Upon  the  whole,  it  seems  to  me,  either  that  there 
exists  no  such  instincts  as  compose  what  is  called  the 
moral  sense,  or  that  they  are  not  now  to  be  distin- 
guished from  prejudices  and  habits ;  on  which  ac- 
count they  cannot  be  depended  upon  in  moral  rea- 


34  The  Moral  Seme. 

soning :  I  mean  that  it  is  not  a  safe  way  of  arguing, 
to  assume  certain  principles  as  so  many  dictates,  im- 
puli^es  and  intincts  of  nature,  and  to  draw  conclu- 
sions; fiom  these  principles,  as  to  the  rectitude  or 
wron;:,ness  of  actions,  independent  of  the  tendency 
of  such  actions,  or  of  any  other  consideration  what- 
ever. 

Aristotle  lays  down,  as  a  fundamental  and  self-evi- 
dent maxim,  that  nature  intended  barbarians  to  be 
slaves ;  and  proceeds  to  deduce  from  this  maxim  a 
train  of  conclusions,  calculated  to  justify  the  policy 
which  then  prevailed.  And  I  question  whether  the 
same  maxim  be  not  still  self-evident  to  the  company 
of  merchants  trading  to  the  coast  of  Africa. 

Nothing  is  so  soon  made  as  a  maxim  ;  and  it  ap- 
pears from  the  example  of  Aristotle,  that  authority 
and  convenience,  education,  prejudice,  and  general 
practice,  have  no  sniall  share  in  the  making  of  them  ; 
and  that  the  laws  of  custom  are  very  apt  to  be  mis- 
taken for  the  order  of  nature. 

For  which  reason,  I  suspect,  that  a  system  of  mo- 
rality, built  upon  instincts,  will  only  find  out  reasons 
and  excuses  for  opinions  and  practices  already  estab- 
lished— will  seldom  correct  or  reform  either. 

But  farther,  suppose  we  admit  the  existence  of 
these  instincts,  what,  it  may  be  asked,  is  their  author- 
ity ?  No  man,  you  say,  can  act  in  deliberate  opposi- 
tion to  them,  without  a  secret  remorse  of  con- 
science. But  this  remorse  may  be  borne  with — and 
if  the  sinner  choose  to  bear  with  it,  for  the  sake  of 
the  pleasure  or  profit  which  he  expects  from  his 
wickedness  ;  or  finds  the  pleasure  of  the  sin  to  ex- 
ceed the  remorse  of  conscience,  of  which  he  alone  is 
the  judge,  and  concerning  which,  when  he  feels  them 
both  together,  he  can  hardly  be  mistaken,  the  moral- 
instinct- man  so  far  as  I  can  understand,  has  nothing 
more  to  offer. 

For,  if  he  allege,  that  these  instincts  are  so  many 
indications  of  the  will  of  God,  ajid  consequently  pre- 


Human  Happiness,  33 

sages  of  what  we  are  to  look  for  hereafter ;  this,  I 
answer,  is  to  resort  to  a  rule  and  a  motive,  ulterior 
to  the  instincts  themselves,  and  at  which  rule  and 
motive  we  shall  by  and  by  arrive  by  a  surer  road — 
I  say  surer,  so  long  as  there  remains  a  controversy 
whether  there  be  any  instinctive  maxims  at  all ;  or 
any  difficulty  in  ascertaining  what  maxims  are  in- 
stinctive. 

This  celebrated  question,  therefore,  becomes  in 
our  system  a  question  of  pure  curiosity,  and  as  such 
we  dismiss  it  to  the  determination  of  those  who  are 
more  inquisitive,  than  we  are  concerned  to  be,  about 
the  natural  history  and  constitution  of  the  human 
species. 


CHAPTER  Vl. 
HUMAN  HAPPINESS. 

J.  HE  word  happy  is  a  relative  term ;  that  is, 
when  we  call  a  man  happy,  we  mean  that  he  is  hap- 
pier than  some  others,  with  whom  we  compare  him  ; 
than  the  generality  of  others ;  or  than  he  himself 
was  in  some  other  situation  :  thus,  speaking  of  one 
who  has  just  compassed  the  object  of  a  long  pursuit, 
"  now,"  we  say,  "he  is  happy  ;"  and  in  a  like  com- 
parative sense,  compared,  that  is,  with  the  general  lot 
of  mankind,  we  call  a  man  happy  who  possesses  health 
and  competency. 

In  strictness,  any  condition  may  be  denominated 
happy,  in  which  the  amount  or  aggregate  of  pleasure 
exceeds  that  of  pain  ;  and  the  degree  of  happiness 
depends  upon  the  quantity  of  this  excess. 

And  the  greatest  quantity  of  it  ordinarily  attaina- 
ble in  human  life,  is  what  we  mean  by  happiness, 
when  we  inquire  or  pronounce  what  human  happi- 
ness consists  in.* 

*  U  any  jjosiiive  src;nification,distinct  from  what  we  mean  by  pleasure,  can 
be  affixed  to  the  term  "  happiness,"  I  should  take  it  to  denote  a  certain  state 


36  Human  Happiness, 

In  which  inquiry  I  will  omit  much  usual  declama- 
tion upon  the  dignity  and  capacity  of  our  nature  5 
the  superiority  oF  the  soul  to  the  body,  of  the  ration- 
al  to  the  animal  part  of  our  constitution  ;  upon  the 
worthiness,  refinement  and  delicticy  of  some  satis- 
factions, or  the  meanness,  grossness  and  sensuality  of 
others;  because  I  hol^  that  pleasures  differ  in  nothing, 
but  in  continuance  and  intensity ;  from  a  just  com- 
putation of  which,  confirmed  by  what  we  observe 
of  the  apparent  cheerfulness,  tranquility,  and  con- 
tentment, of  men  of  different  tastes,  tempers,  stations, 
and  pursuits,  every  question  concerning  human  hap- 
piness must  receive  its  decision. 

It  will  be  our  business  to  show,  if  we  can, 

L     What  human  happiness  doe^  not  consist  in  ; 

II.     What  it  does  consist  in. 

First  then.  Happiness  does  notconvsist  in  the  pleas- 
ures of  sense,  in  whatever  profusion  or  variety  they 
be  enjoyed.  By  the  pleasures  of  .sense  I  mean,  as  well 
the  animal  gratifications  of  eating,  drinking,  and 
that  by  which  the  species  is  continued,  as  the  more 
refined  pleasures  of  music,  painting,  architecture, 
gardening,  splendid  shews,  theatric  exhibitions,  and 

ef  the  nervous  system  in  that  part  of  the  human  frame  in  which  we  feel  joy 
and  grief,  passions  and  aflections.  W^hether  this  part  be  the  heart,  which 
the  turn  of  trost  Inng-uages  v.-oiiid  lead  us  to  believe;  or  the  diaphragm,  as 
Bnffon;  or  the  upper  orifice  of  the  stomafh,  as  Van  Helmont  thought ;  or 
rather  be  a  kind  of  fine  net  work,  hning  the  whole  region  of  the  precordia, 
as  others  have  imagined;  it  is  possible,  not  only  that  each  painful  sensation 
may  violently  shake  and  disturb  the  fibres  at  the  time,  but  that  a  series  of 
such  may  at  length  so  derange  the  very  texture  of  the  system,  as  to  produce 
a  perpetual  irritation  which  will  shew  itself  by  fretfulness.  impatience,  and 
restlessness.  It  is  possible  also^  on  the  other  hand,  that  a  succession  of  pleas- 
urable sensations  may  have  such  an  effect  upon  this  subtle  organization,  as 
to  cause  the  fibres  to  relax, and  return  into  their  place  and  order,  and  there- 
by to  recover,  or,  if  not  lost,  to  preserve  that  harmonious  conformation 
which  gives  to  the  mind  its  sense  of  complacency  and  satisfaction.  This 
state  may  be  denominated  happiness,  and  is  so  far  distinguishaole  from 
pleasure,  that  it  does  not  refer  to  any  particular  object  of  enjoyment,  or 
consist,  like  pleasure,  in  the  gratification  of  one  or  more  of  the  senses,  but 
is  rather  the  secondary  effect  which  such  objects  and  gratifications  produce 
upon  the  nervous  system,  or  the  state  in  which  they  leave  it.  These  conjec- 
tures belong  not,  huwever,  to  our  province.  The  comparative  sense,  in 
which  we  have  explained  the  term,  happiness.  Is  more  popular,  and  is  suf- 
^cient  for  the  purpose  of  the  present  Chapter. 


Human  Happiness,  37 

the  pleasures,  lastly,  of  active  sports,  as  of  hunting, 
shooting,  fishing,  &c.  For, 

;  st.  These  pleasures  continue  but  a  little  while  at 
atiioe.  This  is  true  of  them  all,  especially  of  the 
grosser  sort  of  them.  Laying  aside  the  preparation 
and  the  expectation,  and  computing  strictly  the  actu- 
al sensation,  we  shall  be  surpised  to  find,  how  incon- 
siderable a  portiov)  of  our  time  they  occupy,  how 
few  hours  in  the  four  and  tw^enty  they  are  able  to  fill 
up. 

2dly^  The^e  pleasures,  by  repetition,  lose  their  rel- 
ish. It  is  a  property  of  the  machine,  for  which  we 
know  no  remedy,  that  the  organs,  by  which  we  per- 
ceive pleasure,  are  blunted  and  benumbed,  by  being 
frequently  exercised  in  the  same  way.  There  is 
hardly  any  one  who  has  not  found  the  difference  be- 
tween a  gratification,  when  new,  and  when  familiar  y 
or  any  pleasure,  which  does  not  become  indifferent 
as  it  grows  habitual. 

Sdly,  The  eagerness  for  high  and  intense  delights 
takes  away  the  relish  from  all  others ;  alid  as  such 
delights  fall  rarely  in  our  way,  the  greater  part  of 
our  time  becomes  from  this  cause  empty  and  uneasy. 

There  is  hardly  any  delusion  by  which  men  are 
greater  sufferers  in  their  happiness,  than  by  their  ex- 
pecting too  much  from  what  is  called  pleasure  ;  that 
is,  from  those  intense  delights,  which  vulgarly  en- 
gross the  name  of  pleasure.  The  very  expectation 
spoils  them.  When  they  do  come,  we  are  often  en- 
gaged in  taking  pains  to  persuade  ourselves  hov/ 
much  we  are  pleased,  rather  than  enjoying  any 
pleasure  which  springs  naturally  out  of  the  objf^ct. — 
And  whenever  we  depend  upon  being  vastly  delight- 
ed, we  always  go  home  secretly  grieved  at  missing 
our  aim.  Likewise,  as  hath  been  observed  just  now,, 
when  this  humour  of  b'ing  prodigiou'-ly  i-l'rlighted 
has  once  taken  hc>ld  of  the  imagination,  it  hinders 
us  from  providing  for,  f.<r  icquiescing  in  those  gent- 
ly soothing  engagements,  the  du^  variety  and  sue- 


58  Human  Happiness. 

cession  of  which,  are  the   only  things  that  supply  a 
continued  stream  of  happiness. 

What  I  have  been  able  to  observe  of  that  part  of 
mankind,  whose  professed  pursuit  is  pleasure,  and 
who  are  withheld  in  the  pursuit  by  no  restraints 
of  fortune,  or  scruples  of  conscience,  corresponds  suf- 
ficiently with  this  account.  I  have  commonly  re- 
marked in  such  men,  a  restless  and  inextinguishable 
passion  for  variety  ;  a  great  part  of  their  time  to  be 
vacant,  and  so  much  of  it  irksome ;  and  that,  with 
whatever  eagerness  and  expectation  they  set  out, 
they  become,  by  degrees,  fastidious  in  their  choice  of 
pleasure,  languid  in  the  enjoyment,  yet  miserable  un- 
der the  want  of  it. 

The  truth  seems  to  be,  that  there  is  a  limit,  at 
which  the  pleasures  soon  arrive,  from  which  they 
ever  afterwards  decline.  They  are  by  necessity  of 
short  duration,  as  the  organs  cannot  hold  on  their 
emotions  beyond  ^  certain  length  of  time  ;  and  if 
you  endeavour  to  compensate  for  the  imperfection 
in  their  nature,  by  the  frequency  with  which  you 
repeat  them,  you  lose  more  than  you  gain,  by  the 
fatigue  of  the  faculties,  and  the  diminution  of  sensibil- 
ity. 

We  have  said  nothing  in  this  account  of  the  loss 
of  opportunities,  or  the  decay  of  faculities,  which, 
whenever  they  happen,  leave  the  voluptuary  destitute 
and  desperate  ;  teased  by  desires  that  can  never  be 
gratified,  and  the  memory  of  pleasures  which  must 
return  no  more. 

It  will  also  be  allowed  by  those  w^ho  have  experi- 
enced it,  and  perhaps  by  those  alone,  that  pleasure 
which  is  purchased  by  the  incumbrance  of  our  for- 
tune, is  purchased  too  dear  :  the  pleasure  never  com- 
pensating for  the  perpetual  irritation  of  embarrassed 
circumstances. 

These  pleasures,  after  all,  have  their  value  :  and  as 
the  young  are  always  too  eager  in  their  pursuit  of 
them,  the  old  are  sometimes  too  remiss  ;  that  is,  too 


Human  Happiness.  39 

studious  of  their  ease,  to  be  at  the   pains  for  them, 
which  they  really  deserve. 

SiicoNDLY,  Neither  does  happiness  consist  in  an 
exemption  from  pain,  labour,  care,  business,  suspense, 
molestation,  and  "  those  evils  w^hich  are  without  ;'* 
such  a  state  being  usually  attended  not  with  ease,  but 
with  depression  of  spirits,  a  tastelessness  in  all  our 
ideas,  imaginary  anxieties,  and.  the  whole  train  of 
hypochondriacal  affections. 

For  which  reason,  it  seldom  answers  the  expecta- 
tions of  those,  who  retire  from  their  shops  and  count- 
ing-houses, to  enjoy  the  remainder  of  their  days  in 
leisure  and  tranquility  ;  much  less  of  such,  as  in  a 
fit  of  chagrin,  shut  themselves  up  in  cloisters  and  her- 
mitages, or  quit  the  world  and  their  stations  in  it,  for 
solitude  and  repose. 

Where  there  exists  a  known  external  cause  of  un- 
easiness, the  cause  may  be  removed,  and  the  uneasi- 
ness will  cease.  But  those  imaginary  distresses  which 
men  feel  for  want  of  real  ones  (and  which  are  equal- 
ly tormenting,  and  so  far  equally  real)  as  they  depend 
upon  no  single  or  assignable  subject  of  uneasiness,  ad^ 
mit  ofttimes  of  no  application  or  relief. 

Hence  a  moderate  pain,  upon  which  the  attention 
may  fasten  and  spend  itself,  is  to  many  a  refreshment ; 
as  a  fit  of  th^  gout  will  sometimes  cure  the  spleen. 
And  the  sam.e  of  any  less  violent  agitation  of  the 
mind,  as  a  literary  controversy,  a  law-suit,  a  contest- 
ed election,  and,  above  all,  gaming  ;  the  passion  for 
which,  in  men  of  fortune  and  liberal  minds,  is  only  to 
be  accounted  for  on  this  principle. 

Thirdly,  Neither  does  happiness  consist  in  great- 
ness, rank  or  elevated  station- 
Were  it  true  that  all  superiority  afforded  pleasure, 
it  would  follow,  that,  by  how  much  we  were  the 
greater,  that  is,  the  more  persons  we  were  superior 
to,  in  the  same  proportion,  so  far  as  depended  upon 
1,his  cause,  we  .should  be  the  happier  j  but  so  it  is^ 

F 


40  Human  Happiness. 

tfiat  no  superiority  yields  any  satisfaction,  save  that 
which  we  possess  or  obtain  over  those  with  whom  we 
immediately  compare  ourselves.  The  shepherd  per- 
ceives no  pleasure  in  his  superiority  over  his  dog ; 
the  farmer  in  his  superiority  over  the  shepherd  ;  the 
lord  in  his  superiority  over  the  farmer  -,  nor  the 
king,  lastly,  in  his  superiority  over  the  lord.  Supe- 
riority, where  there  is  no  competition,  is  seldom  con- 
templated ;  what  most  men  indeed  are  quite  uncon- 
scious of. 

But  if  the  same  shepherd  can  run,  fight,  or  wres- 
tle better  than  the  peasants  of  his  village  ;  if  the  far- 
mer can  show  better  cattle,  if  he  keep  a  better  horse, 
or  be  supposed  to  have  a  longer  purse  than  any  farm- 
er in  the  hundred  ;  if  the  lord  have  more  interest  in 
an  election,  greater  favour  at  court,  a  better  house,  or 
larger  estate  than  any  nobleman  in  the  country;  if  the 
king  possess  a  more  extensive  territory,  a  more  pow- 
erful fleet  or  army,  a  more  splendid  establishment, 
more  loyal  subjects,  or  more  weight  and  authority, 
in  adjusting  the  affairs  of  nations,  than  any  prince 
in  Europe :  in  all  these  cases  the  parlies  feel  an  actu- 
al satisfaction  in  their  superiority. 

Now  the  conclusion  that  follows  from  hence  is  this 
— that  the  pleasures  of  ambition,  which  are  supposed 
to  be  peculiar  to  high  stations,  are  in  reality  common 
to  all  conditions.  The  farrier  who  shoes  a  horse  bet- 
ter, and  who  is  in  greater  request  for  his  skill  than 
any  man  within  ten  miles  of  him,  possesses,  for  all 
that  I  can  see,  the  dehght  of  distinction  and  of  excel- 
ling, as  truly  and  substantially  as  the  statesman,  the 
soldier,  and  the  scholar,  who  have  filled  Europe  with 
the  reputation  of  their  wisdom,  their  valour,  or  their 
knowledge. 

No  superiority  appears  to  be  of  any  account,  but 
superiority  over  a  rival.  This,  it  is  manifest,  may 
exist  wherever  rivalships  do ;  and  rivalships  fall  out 
amongst  men  of  all  ranks  and  degrees.  The  object 
of  emulation,  the  dignity  or  magnitude  of  this  object, 


Human  Happiness.  41 

makes  no  difference;  as  it  is  not  what  either  possess- 
es that  constitutes  the  pleasure,  but  what  one  possess- 
es more  than  the  other. 

Philosophy  smiles  at  the  contempt  with  which  the 
rich  and  great  speak  of  the  petty  strifes  and  competi- 
tions of  the  poor  y.  not  reflecting  that  these  strifes 
and  competitions  are  just  as  reasonable  as  their  own, 
and  the  pleasure,  which  success  affords,  the  same. 

Our  position  is,  that  happiness  does  not  consist  in 
greatness.  And  this  position  we  make  out  by  shew- 
ing, that  even  what  were  supposed  to  be  the  peculiar 
advantages  of  greatness,  the  pleasures  of  ambition 
and  superiority,  are  in  reality  common  to  all  condi- 
tions. But  whether  the  pursuits  of  ambition  be  ever 
wise,  whether  they  contribute  more  to  the  happiness 
or  misery  of  the  pursuers,  i  >  a  different  question  ;  and 
a  question  concerning  which  we  may  be  allowed  to  en- 
tertain great  doubt.  The  pleasure  of  success  is  exqui- 
site ;  fco  also  is  the  anxiety  of  the  pursuit,  and  the 
pain  of  disappointment — and  what  is  the  worst  part 
ot  the  account,  the  pleasure  is  short  lived.  We  soon 
cease  to  look  back  upon  those  whom  we  have  left  be- 
hind ;  new  contests  are  engaged  in,  new  prospects 
unfold  themselves  ;  a  succession  of  struggles  is  kept 
up,  whilst  there  is  a  rival  left  within  the  compass  of 
our  views  and  profession  ;  and  when  there  is  none, 
the  pleasure  with  the  pursuit  is  at  an  end. 

II.  We  have  seen  what  happiness  does  not  consist 
in.     We  are  next  to  consider  in  what  it  does  consist. 

In  the  conduct  of  hfe,  the  great  matter  is,  to  know 
beforehand,  what  will  please  us,  and  what  pleasures 
will  hold  out.  So  far  as  we  know  this,  our  choice 
will  be  justified  by  the  event.  And  this  knowledge 
is  more  scarce  and  difficult  than  at  first  sight  it  may 
seem  to  be  :  for  sometimes,  pleasures  which  are  won- 
derfully allurlng'and  flattering  in  the  prospect,  turn 
out  in  the  possession,  extremely  insipid  ;  or  do  not 
.hold  as  we  expected  ;  at  other  times  pleasures  start 
UP,    which    never    entered   into    our    calculation  ; 


42  Hutnan  Happiness. 

and  which  we  might  have  missed  of  by  not  fore- 
seeing :  from  whence  we  have  reason  to  believe, 
that  we  actually  do  miss  of  many  pleasures  from 
the  same  cause.  I  say  to  know  "  beforehand,"  for 
after  the  experiment  is  tried,  it  is  commonly  im- 
practicable to  retreat  or  change  ;  beside  that  shifting 
and  changing  is  apt  to  generate  a  habit  of  restlessness, 
which  is  destructive  of  the  happiness  of  every  condi- 
tion. 

By  reason  of  the  original  diversity  of  taste,  capac- 
ity, and  constitution,  observable  in  the  human  species, 
and  the  still  greater  variety,  which  habit  and  fashion 
have  introduced  in  these  particulars,  it  is  impossible 
to  propose  any  plan  of  happiness,  which  will  succeed 
to  all  or  any  method  of  life  which  is  universally  el- 
igable  or  practicable. 

All  that  can  be  said  is,  that  there  remains  a  pre- 
sumption in  favour  of  those  conditions  of  life  in 
which  men  generally  appear  m.ost  cheerful  and  con- 
tented. For  though  the  apparent  happiness  of  man- 
kind be  not  always  a  true  measure  of  their  real  hap- 
piness, it  is  the  best  measure  we  have. 

Taking  this  for  my  guide,  I  am  inclined  to  believe 
that  happiness  consists. 

First,  In  the  exercise  of  the  social  afl'ections. 

Those  persons  commonly  possess  good  spirits  who 
have  about  them  many  objects  of  affection  and  endear- 
ment, as  wife,  children,  kindred,  friends.  And  to  the 
want  of  these  may  be  imputed  the  peevishness  of 
monks,  and  of  such  as  lead  a  monastic  hfe. 

Of  the  same  nature  with  the  indulgence  of  our  do- 
mestic affections,  and  equally  refreshing  to  the  spirits, 
is  the  pleasure  which  results  from  acts  of  bounty  and 
beneficience,  exercised  either  in  giving  money,  or  in 
itnparting  to  those  who  want  it,  the  assistance  of  our 
skill  and  profession. 

Another  main  article  of  human  happiness  is, 

Second,  The  exercise  of  our  faculties,  either  of 
body  or  mind,  in  the  pursuit  of  some  engaging  end. 


Human  Happiness.  43 

It  seems  to  be  true,  that  no  plenitade  of  prer.ent 
gratifications,  can  make  the  possessor  happy  for  a  con- 
tinuance, unless  he  have  something  in  restrve ome- 

thing  to  hope  for,  and  look  forward  to.  This  I  con- 
clude to  be  the  case,  from  comparing  the  alacrity 
and  spitits  of  men,  who  are  ei\e/iged  in  any  pursuit 
which  interests  them,  with  the  dejection  and  ennui  of 
almost  all,  who  are  either  born  to  so  much  that  they 
want  nothing  more,  or  who  have  med  up  thi^ir  satis- 
factions too  soon,  and  drained  the  sources  of  them. 

It  is  this  intolerable  vacuity  of  mind,  which  car- 
ries the  rich  and  great  to  the  horse-course  and  the 
gaming  table  j  and  often  engages  them  in  contests 
and  pursuits,  of  which  the  success  bears  no  propor- 
tion to  the  solicitude  and  expense,  with  which  it  is 
sought.  An  election  for  a  disputed  borough  -hall 
cost  the  parties  twenty  or  thirty  thou  and  pounds  a 
piece,  to  say  nothing  of  the  anxiety,  humiliation,  and 
fatieue  of  the  canvass  :  when  a  seat  in  the  House  of 
Commons,  of  exactly  the  same  value,  may  be  had  for 
a  tenth  partr  of  the  money,  and  with  no  trouble.  I 
do  not  mention  this  to  blame  the  rich  and  great, 
(perhaps  they  cannot  do  better)  but  in  ccnfirmation 
of  what  I  have  advanced. 

Hope,  which  thus  appears  to  be  of  so  much  impor- 
tance to  our  happiness,  is  of  two  kinds,  where  there 
is  something  to  be  done  towards  attaining  the  object 
of  our  hope,  and  where  there  is  nothing  to  be  done. 
The  first  alone  is  of  any  value  ;  the  latter  being  apt 
to  corrupt  into  impatience,  having  nothing  in  its 
power  but  to  sit  still  and  wait,  which  soon  grows 
tiresome. 

The  doctrine  delivered  under  this  head  may  be 
readily  admitted  ;  but  how  to  provide  ourselves  with 
a  succession  of  pleasurable  engagements,  is  the  diffi- 
culty. This  requires  two  things ;  judgment  in  the 
choice  of  ends  adapted  to  our  opportunities  ;  and  a 
command  of  imagination,  so  as  to  be  able,  when  the 
judgment  has  made  choice  of  an  end,  to  transfer  a 


44f  Hufnan  Happiness, 

pleasure  to  the  means  ;    after  which  the  end  may  be 
forgotten  as  soon  as  we  will. 

Hence  those  pleasures  are  most  valuable,  not  which 
are  most  exquisite  in  the  fruition,  but  which  are  most 
productive  of  engagement  and  activity  in  the  pursuit. 

A  man  who  is  in  earnest  in  his  endeavours  after 
the  happiness  of  a  future  state,  has,  in  this  respect, 
an  advantage  over  all  the  world.  For  he  has  con- 
stantly before  his  eyes  an  object  of  supreme  import- 
ance, productive  of  perpetual  engagement  and  activ- 
ity, and  of  which  the  pursuit  (which  can  be  said  of 
jio  pursuit  besides)  lasts  him  to  his  life's  end.  Yet 
even  he  must  have  many  ends,  beside  thej^r  end : 
but  then  they  will  conduct  to  that,  be  subordinate, 
and  in  some  way  or  other  capable  of  being  referred  to 
that,  and  derive  their  satisfaction,  or  an  addition 
of  satisfaction,  from  that. 

Engagement  is  every  thing.  The  more  significant, 
however,  our  engagements  are,  the  better  ;  such  as 
the  planning  of  laws,  institutions,  manufactures,  char- 
ities, improvements,  public  works ;  and  the  endeav- 
ouring, by  our  interest,  address,  solicitations,  and  ac- 
tivity to  carry  them  into  ffect :  or  upon  a  smaller 
scale,  the  procuring  of  a  maintenance  and  fortune  for 
our  families  by  a  course  of  industry  and  application 
to  our  callings,  which  forms  and  gives  motion  to  the 
common  occupations  of  life  ;  training  up  a  child  ; 
prosecuting  a  scheme  for  his  future  establishment; 
making  ourselves  masters  of  a  language  or  a  science  ; 
improving  or  managing  an  estate ;  labouring  after 
a  piece  of  preferment :  and  lastly,  any  engagement, 
which  is  innocent,  is  better  than  none  :  as  the  writ- 
ing of  a  book,  the  building  of  a  house,  the  laying  out 
of  a  garden,  the  digging  of  a  fish-pond — even  the 
raiding  of  a  cucumber  or  a  tulip. 

Whilst  the  mind  is  taken  up  with  the  objects  of 
business  before  us,  we  are  commonly  happy,  whatev- 
er the  object  or  business  be  :  when  the  mind  is  absent, 
and  the   thoughts  are  wandering  to  sgmething  else 


Human  Happiness.  45 

than  what  is  passing  in  the  place  in  which  we  are, 
we  are  often  miserable. 

Third,  Happiness  depends  upon  the  prudent  con- 
stitution of  the  habits. 

The  art  in  which  the  secret  of  human  happiness 
in  a  great  measure  consists,  is  to  set  the  habits  in  such 
a  manner,  that  every  change  may  be  a  change  for 
the  better.  The  habits  themselves  are  much  the 
same ;  for  whatever  is  made  habitual,  becomes' 
smooth,  and  easy,  and  nearly  indifferent.  The  re- 
turn to  an  old  habit  is  likewise  easy,  whatever  the 
habit  be.  Therefore  the  advantage  is  with  those 
habits  which  allow  of  indulgence  in  the  deviation 
from  them.  The  luxurious  receive  no  greater  pleas- 
ure, from  their  dainties,  than  the  pea  ant  does  from 
Ills  bread  and  cheese :  but  the  peasant,  whenever  he 
goes  abroad,  finds  a  feast  ;  whereas  the  epicure  must 
be  well  entertained  to  escape  disgust.  Those  who 
spend  every  day  at  cards,  and  those  who  go  every 
day  to  plough,  pass  their  time  much  alike ;  intent 
upon  what  they  are  about,  wanting  nothing,  regret- 
ting nothing,  they  are  both  for  the  time  in  a  state  of 
ease :  but  then,  whatever  suspends  the  occupation 
of  the  card-player,  distresses  him  ;  whereas  to  the 
labourer,  every  interruption  is  a  refreshment :  and 
this  appears  in  the  diiferent  effect  that  Sunday  pro- 
duces upon  the  two,  which  proves  a  day  of  recrea- 
tion to  the  one,  but  a  lamentable  burthen  to  the  oth- 
er. The  man  who  has  learned  to  live  alone,  feels 
his  spirits  enlivened  whenever  he  enters  into  com- 
pany, and  takes  his  leave  without  regret  ;  another, 
who  has  long  been  accustomed  to  a  crowd,  or  con- 
tinual succession  of  company,  experiences  in  compa- 
ny no  elevation  of  spirits,  nor  any  greater  satisfac- 
tion, than  what  the  man  of  retired  life  finds  in  his 
chimney  corner.  So  far  their  conditions  are  equal  ; 
but  let  a  change  of  place,  fortune,  or  situation,  sepa- 
rate the  companion  from  his  circle,  his  visitors,  his 
ciub,  common  room,  or  colfce-hoHse,  and  the  differ- 


46  Hufiian  Happiness* 

ence  of  advantage  in  the  choice  and  constitution  of 
the  two  habits  will  shew  itself.  SoHtude  comes  to 
the  one  clothed  with  melancholy  ;  to  the  other  it 
bring>  liberty  and  quiet.  You  Vv'ill  see  the  one  fret- 
ful and  re.stless,  at  a  loss  how  to  dispose  of  his  time, 
till  the  hour  come  round  that  he  can  forget  himself 
in  bed  ;  the  other  easy  and  satisfied,  taking  up  his 
book,  or  his  pipe,  as  soon  as  he  finds  himself  alone  ; 
ready  to  admit  any  little  amusement  that  casts  up,  or 
to  turn  his  hands  and  attention  to  the  first  business 
that  presents  itself ;  or  content  without  either  to  sit 
still,  and  let  his  trains  of  thought  glide  indolently 
through  his  brain,  without  much  use,  perhaps,  or 
pleasure,  but  without  hankering  after  any  thing  bet- 
ter, and  without  irritatloUc  A  reader,  who  has  in- 
ured himself  to  books  of  science  and  argumenta- 
tion, if  a  novel,  a  well  written  pamphlet,  an  article 
of  news,  a  narrative  of  a  curious  voyage,  or  the 
journal  of  a  traveller,  fall  In  his  way,  sits  down  to 
the  repast  with  relish  ;  enjoys  his  entertainment 
while  it  lasts,  and  can  return,  when  it  is  over,  to  his 
graver  reading,  v/Ithout  distaste.  Another,  with 
whom  nothing  will  go  down  but  works  of  humour 
and  pleasantry,  or  whose  curiosity  must  be  interested 
by  perpetual  novelty,  will  consume  a  bookseller's 
window  in  half  a  forenoon  ;  during  which  time  he 
is  rather  in  search  of  diversion  than  diverted  ;  and 
as  books  to  his  taste  are  few,  and  short,  and  rapidly 
read  over,  the  stock  is  soon  exhausted,  when  he  is 
left  without  resource  from  this  principal  supply  of 
harmless  amusement. 

So  far  as  circumstances  of  fortune  conduce  to  hap- 
piness, it  is  not  the  income  which  any  man  possesses, 
but  the  increase  of  income  that  affo^rds  the  pleasure. 
Two  persons,  of  whom  one  begins  with  and  hundred 
and  advances  his  income  to  a  thousand  pounds  a 
year  ;  and  the  other  sets  off  with  a  thousand,  and 
dwindles  down  to  an  hundred,  may,  in  the  course 
of  their  time,   have  the  receipt  an,d  spending  of  the 


Human  Happiness.  47 

same  sum  of  money :  yet  their  sati.'^faction,  so  far  as 
fortune  is  concerned  in  it,  will  be  very  different :  the 
series  and  sum  total  of  their  income  being  the  same, 
it  makes  a  wide  difference  at  which   end  they  begin. 

Fourth,  Happine.ss  consists  in  health. 

By  health  I  understand,  as  well  freedom  from  bodi- 
ly distempers,  as  that  tranquility,  firmness,  and  alac- 
rity of  mind,  which  we  call  good  spirits  ;  and  which 
may  properly  enough  be  included  in  our  notion  of 
health, as  depending  commonly  upon  the  same  cause% 
and  yielding  to  the  same  management,  as  our  bodily 
constitution. 

Health,  in  this  sense,  is  the  one  thing  needful. 
Therefore  no  pains,  expense,  self-denial,  or  restraint, 
to  which  we  subject  ourselves,  for  the  sake  of  health, 
is  too  much.  Whether  it  require  us  to  relinquish  lu- 
crative situations,  to  abstain  from  favourite  indul- 
gences, to  control  intemperate  passions,  or  undergo 
tedious  regimens ;  whatever  difficulties  it  lays  us  un- 
der, a  man  who  pursues  his  happiness  rationally  and 
resolutely,  will  be  content  to  submit  to. 

When  we  are  in  perfect  health  and  spirits,  v;e  feel 
in  ourselves  a  happiness  independent  of  any  particu- 
lar outward  gratification  whatever,  and  of  which  we 
can  give  no  account.  This  is  an  enjoyment  which  th^ 
Deity  has  annexed  to  life ;  and  probably  constitutes, 
in  a  great  measure,  the  happiness  of  infants  and  brutes, 
especially  of  the  lower  and  sedentary  orders  of  animals, 
as  of  oysters,  periwinkles,  and  the  like  ;  for  which  I 
have  sometimes  been  at  a  loss  to  find  out  amu-ement. 

The  above  account  of  human  happiness  will  justify 
the  two  following  conclusions,  which,  although  found 
in  most  books  of  morality,  have  seldom,  I  think,  been 
supported  by  any  sufficient  reasons. 

First,  That  happiness  is  pretty  equally  distributed 
amongst  the  different  orders  of  civil  society. 

Second,  That  vice  has  no  advantafje  over  virtue, 
even  with  respect  to  this  world's  happiness. 


48  Virtue. 

CHAPTER   VII. 
VIRTUE. 

V IRTUE  is,  "  the  doing  good  to  mankind,  in  obe- 
dience to  the  will  of  God,  and  for  the  sake  of  everlasting 
happinessJ*^ 

According  to  which  definition,  "  the  good  of  man- 
kind" is  the  subject,  the  "■  will  of  God'*  the  rule,  and 
"  everlasting  happiness'*  the  motive  of  human  virtue. 

Virtue  has  been  divided  by  some  moralists  into  be- 
ne-volence,  prudence,  fortitude,  and  temperance.  Benev- 
olence proposes  good  ends ;  prudence  suggests  the  best 
means  of  attaining  them  ;  fortitude  enables  us  to  en- 
counter the  difficulties,  dangers,  and  discouragements, 
which  stand  in  our  way  in  the  pursuit  of  these  ends  -, 
temperance  repels  and  overcomes  the  passions  that  ob- 
struct it.  Benevolence,  for  instance,  prompts  us  to  un- 
dertake the  cause  of  an  oppressed  orphan  ;  prudence 
suggests  the  best  means  of  going  about  it ;  fortitude 
enables  u?  to  confront  the  danger,  and  bear  up  against 
the  loss,  disgrace,  or  repulse,  that  may  attend  our  un- 
dertaking ;  and  temperance  keeps  under  the  love  of 
money,  of  ease,  or  amusement,  which  might  divert 
us  from  it. 

Virtue  is  distinguished  by  others  into  two  branches 
only,  prudence  and  benevolence  ;  prudence  attentive  to 
our  own  interest ;  benevolence  to  that  of  our  fellow 
creatures  :  both  direct  to  the  same  end,  the  increase 
of  happiness  in  nature  ;  and  taking  equal  concern  in 
the  future  as  in  the  present. 

The  four  Cardinal  virtues  2X^,  prudence,  fortitude, 
temperance,  and  justice. 

But  the  division  of  virtue,  to  which  we  are  now-a- 
days  most  accustomed,  is  into  duties. 


Virtue.  49 

Towards  God ;  as  piety,  reverence,  resignation, 
gratitude,  &c. 

Towards  other  men  (or  relalive  duties ;)  as  justice, 
charity,  fidelity,  loyalty,  &c. 

Towards  ourselves  ;  as  charity,  sobriety,  temper- 
ance, preservation  of  life,  care  of  health,  &c. 

More  of  these  distinctions  have  been  proposed, 
which  it  is  not  worth  while  to  set  down. 


I  shall  proceed  to  state  a  few  observations,  which 
relate  to  the  general  regulation  of  human  conduct ;. 
unconnected  indeed  with  each  other,  but  very  worthy 
of  attention  ;  and  which  fall  as  properly  under  the 
title  of  this  Chapter  as  of  any  other. 

I.    Mankind  act  more  from  habit  than  reflection. 

It  is  on  few,  only,  and  great  occasions  that  men 
deliberate  at  all ;  on  fewer  still,  that  they  institute 
any  thing  like  a  regular  inquiry  into  the  moral  recti- 
tude or  depravity  of  what  they  are  about  to  do  j  or 
wait  for  the  result  of  it.  We  are  for  the  most  part 
determined  at  once  ;  and  by  an  impulse,  which  is  the 
effect  and  energy  of  pre  established  habits.  And  this 
constitution  seems  well  adapted  to  the  exigences  of 
human  life,  and  to  the  imbecility  of  our  moral  prin- 
ciple. In  the  current  occasions  and  rapid  opportuni- 
ties of  life,  there  is  ofttimes  little  leisure  for  reflection; 
and  were  there  more,  a  man,  who  has  to  reason 
about  his  duty,  when  the  temptation  to  transgress  is 
upon  him,  is  almost  sure  to  reason  himself  into  an 
error. 

If  we  are  in  so  great  a  degree  passive  under  our 
habits,  where,  it  is  asked,  is  the  exercise  of  virtue, 
the  guilt  of  vice,  or  any  use  of  moral  and  religious 
knowledge  ?  I  answer,  in  the  forming  and  coiifvnrthi;^ 
of  these  habits. 


50  Virtue. 

And  from  hence  results  a  rule  of  life  of  considera- 
ble importance,  viz.  that  many  things  are  to  be  done, 
and  abstained  from,  solely  for  the  sake  of  habit.  We 
will  explain  ourselves  by  an  example  or  two.  A  beg- 
garjwith  the  appearance  of  extreme  distress,  a«ks  our 
charity.  If  we  come  to  argue  the  matter,  whether 
the  distress  be  real,  whether  it  be  not  brought  upon 
himself,  whether  it  be  of  public  advantage  to  admit 
such  applications,  whether  it  be  not  to  encourage 
idleness  and  vagrancy,  whether  it  may  not  invite  im- 
posters  to  our  doors,  whether  the  money  can  be 
well  spared,  or  might  not  be  better  apphed ;  when 
these  considerations  are  put  together,  it  may  appear 
very  doubtful,  whether  we  ought  or  ought  not,  to 
give  any  thing.  But  when  we  reflect,  that  the  mis- 
ery before  our  eyes  excites  our  pity,  whether  we 
will  or  not ;  that  it  is  of  the  utmost  consequence  to 
us  to  cultivate  this  tenderness  of  mind ;  that  it  is  a 
quality,  cherished  by  indulgence,  and  soon  stifled  by 
opposition  :  when  this,  1  say,  is  considered,  a  wise 
man  will  do  that  for  his  own  sake,  which  he  would 
have  hesitated  to  do  for  the  petitioner's  ;  he  will  give 
way  to  his  compassion,  rather  than  offer  violence  to 
a  habit  ot  so  much  general  use. 

A  man  of  confirmed  good  habits  will  act  in  the 
same  manner,  without  any  consideration  at  all. 

This  may  serve  for  one  instance  :  another  is  the 
following.  A  man  has  been  brought  up  from  his  in- 
fancy with  a  dread  of  lying.  An  occasion  presents 
itself,  where,  at  the  expense  of  a  little  veracity,  he 
may  divert  his  company,  set  oft'  his  own  wit  with  ad- 
vantage, attract  the  notice  and  engage  the  partiality 
of  all  about  him.  This  is  not  a  small  temptation. 
And  when  he  looks  at  the  other  side  of  the  question, 
he  sees  no  mischief  that  can  ensue  from  this  liberty, 
no  slander  of  any  man's  reputation,  no  prejudice 
likely  to  arise  to  any  man's  interest.  Were  there 
nothing  further  to  be  considered,  it  would  be  diffi- 
cult to  .show  why  a  man  under  such  circumstances 


Virtue*  51 

might  not  Indulge  his  humour.  But  when  he  reflects 
that  his  scruples  about  lying  have  hitherto  preserved 
him  free  from  this  vice  ;  that  occasions  like  the  pres- 
ent will  return,  where  the  inducement  may  be  equal- 
ly strong,  but  the  indulgence  much  less  innocent ; 
that  his  scruples  will  wear  away  by  a  few  transgres- 
sions, and  leave  him  subject  to  one  of  the  meanest  and 
most  pernicious  of  all  bad  habits,  a  habit  of  lying 
whenever  it  will  serve  his  turn  :  when  all  this,  I  say, 
is  considered,  a  wise  man  will  forego  the  present,  or 
a  much  greater  pleasure,  rath-er  than  lay  the  founda- 
tion of  a  character  so  vicious  and  contemptible. 

From  what  has  been  said  may  be  explained  also 
the  nature  of  habitual  virtue.  By  the  definition  of 
virtue,  placed  at  the  beginning  of  this  Chapter,  it  ap- 
pears, that  the  good  of  mankind  is  the  subject,  the 
will  of  God  the  rule,  and  everlasting  happiness  the 
motive  and  end  of  all  virtue.  Yet  in  fact  a  man 
shall  perform  many  an  act  of  virtue,  without  having 
either  the  good  of  mankind,  the  will  of  God,  or 
everlasting  happiness  in  his  thoughts.  How  is  this 
to  be  understood  ?  In  the  same  manner  as  that  a  man 
may  be  a  very  good  servant,  without  being  conscious 
at  every  turn  of  a  particular  regard  to  his  master's 
will,  or  of  an  express  attention  to  his  master's  inter- 
est ;  indeed  your  best  old  servants  are  of  this  sort ; 
but  then  he  must  have  served  tor  a  length  of  time 
under  the  actual  direction  of  these  motives  to  bring 
it  to  this :  in  which  service  his  merit  and  virtue  con- 
sist. 

There  are  habits^  not  only  of  drinking,  swearing, 
and  lying,  and  of  some  other  things,  which  are  com- 
monly acknowledged  to  be  habits,  and  called  so  ;  but 
of  every  modification  of  action,  speech,  and  thoughr. 
Man  is  a  bundle  of  habits.  There  are  habits  of  in- 
dustry, attention,  vigilance,  advertency  ;  of  a  prompt^ 
obedience  to  the  judgment  occuring,  or  of  yielding 
to  the  first  impulse  of  passion  j  of  extending  our 
views  to  the  future,  or  of  resting  upon  the  present ; 


52  Virtue, 

of*  apprehending,  methodising,  reasoning  ;  of  indo- 
lence and  dilatoriness ;  of  vanity,  self-conceit,  mel- 
ancholy, partiality ;  of  fretfulness,  suspicion,  cap- 
tiousness,  censoriousness  ;  of  pride,  ambition,  cov- 
etiousness  ;  of  over-reaching,  intriguing,  projecting. 
In  a  wrnd,  there  is  not  a  quahty,  or  function,  either 
of  body  or  mind,  which  does  not  feel  the  influence 
of  this  great  law  of  animated  nature. 

II.  The  Christian  religion  hath  not  ascertained  the 
precise  quantity  of  virtue  necessary  to  salvation. 

This  has  been  made  an  objection  to  Christianity ; 
but  without  reason.  For,  as  all  revelation,  however 
imparted  originally,  must  be  transmitted  by  the  or- 
dinary vehicle  of  language^  it  behoves  those  who 
make  the  objection  to  shew  that  any  form  of  words 
could  be  devised,  which  miq-lii  express  this  quantity  ; 
or  that  it  is  possible  lo  consritute  a  standard  of  moral 
attainments,  accommodated  to  the  almost  infinite  di- 
versity which  subsists  in  the  capacities  and  opportuni- 
ties of  difFerent  men. 

It  seems  most  agreeable  to  our  conceptions  of  jus- 
tice, and  is  consonant  enough  to  the  language  ojf 
scripture,*  to  suppose  that  there  are  prepared  for  us 
rewards  and  punishments,  of  all  possible  degrees, 
from  the  most  exalted  happiness  down  txD  extreme 
misery ;  so  that  "  our  labour  is  never  in  vain ;" 
whatever  advancement  we  make  in  virtue,  we  pro- 
cure a  proportionable  accession  of  future  happiness  ; 
as,  on  the  other  hand,  every  accumulation  of  vice 
is  the  "  treasuring  up  of  so  much  wrath  against  the 
day  of  wrath."     It  has  been  said,  that  it  can  never  be 

"  "  He  wlilcli  soweth  sparingly  shall  reap  also  sparingly  ;  and  he  whicJi 
sfiweth  bountifully  shall  reap  also  bountifully."  2  Cor-  ix.  6 — "  And  that 
servant  which  new  his  Lofl's  will,  and  prepared  not  himself,  neither  did 
according  to  his  will,  shall  be  beaten  with  many  stripes;  but  he  that  knew 
not,  shall  be  beaten  with  few  stripes."  Luke  xii.  47,  48. — "  Whosoever 
sbali  give  you  a  cup  of  water  to  drink  in  my  name,  because  ye  belong 
ftbfelirist,  verily  1  say  unto  you,  he  shall  not  lose  his  reward  ;"  to  wit,  inti- 
nwj^ng  that  there  is  in  reserve  a  proportional  reward  for  even  the  smallest 
act  of  virtue.  Mark  ix.  41. — See  also  the  parable  of  the  pounds,  Luke 
arx.  16,  &c.  where  he  whose  prund  hath  gained  ten  pounds,  was  placed 
over  ten  citie.s  ;  and  be  whose  pound  had  gained  five  pounds,  was  placed 
over  five.cities. 


Virtue.  ^3 

a  just  economy  of  Providence,  to  admit  one  part  of 
mankind  into  heaven,  and  condemn  the  other  to 
hell,  since  there  must  be  very  Httle  to  choose,  between 
the  worst  man  who  is  received  into  heaven,  and  the 
best  who  is  excluded.  And  how  know  we,  it  might 
be  answered,  but  that  there  may  be  as  little  to 
choose  in  their  conditions  ? 

Without  entering  into  a  detail  of  scriptui-e  mo- 
rality which  would  anticipate  our  subject,  the  fol- 
lowing* general  positions  may  be  advanced,  I  think, 
with  safety : 

1 .  That  a  state  of  happiness  is  not  to  be  expected 
by  those  who  are  conscious  of  no  moral  or  religious 
rule.  I  mean  those,  who  cannot  with  truth  say, 
that  they  have  been  prompted  to  one  action,  or 
withheld  from  one  gratification,  by  any  regard  to 
virtue  or  religion,  either  immediate  or  habitual. 

There  needs  no  other  proof  of  this,  than  the  con- 
sideration, that  a  brute  would  be  as  proper  an  object 
of  reward  as  such  a  man  ;  and  that,  if  the  case  were 
so,  the  penal  sanctions  of  religion  could  have  no 
place.  For  whom  would  you  punish,  if  you  make 
such  a  one  as  this  happy  ? — or  rather  indeed  religion 
itself,  both  natural  and  revealed,  would  cease  to  have 
either  use  or  authority. 

2.  That  a  state  of  happiness  is  not  to  be  expected 
by  those,  who  reserve  to  themselves  the  habitual 
practice  of  any  one  sin,  or  neglect  of  one  known 
duty. 

Because  no  obedience  can  proceed  upon  proper 
motives  which  is  not  universal,  that  is,  which  is  not 
directed  to  every  command  of  God  alike,  as  they 
all  stand  upon  the  same  authority.  ' 

Because,  such  an  allowance  would  in  effect  amount 
.to  a  toleration  of  every  vice  in  the  world. 

And  because,  the  strain  of  scripture  language  ex- 
cludes any  such  hope.  When  our  duties  are  recited, 
they  are  put  collectively,  that  is,  as  all  and  every  c: 


^4>-  Virtue. 

them  required  in  the  Christian  character.  "  ^dd  to 
your  faith  virtue,  and  to  virtue  knowledge,  and  to 
knowledge  temperance,  and  to  temperance  patience, 
and  to  patience  godliness,  and  to  godliness  brotherly 
kindness,  and  to  brotherly  kindness  charity."*  On 
the  other  hand,  when  vices  are  enumerated,  they 
are  put  disjunctively,  that  is,  as  separately  and  sever- 
ally excluding  the  sinner  from  heaven.  "  Neither 
fornicators,  nor  idolaters,  nor  adulterers,  nor  effem- 
inate, nor  abusers  of  themselves  with  mankind,  nor 
thieves,  nor  covetious,  nor  drunkards,  nor  revilers, 
nor  extortioners,  shall  inherit  the  kingdom  of 
heaven."! 

Those  texts  of  scripture,  which  seem  to  lean  a  con- 
trary w  ay,  as  that  "  chanty  shall  cover  a  multitude  of 
sins  j"|  that  "  he  which  converteth  a  sinner  from 
the  error  of  his  way  shall  hide  a  multitude  of  sins  ;"[j 
cannot  I  think,  for  the  reasons  above  mentioned,  be 
extended  to  sins  deliberately,  habitually,  and  obsti- 
nately persisted  in. 

3.  That  a  state  of  mere  unprofitableness  will  not 
go  unpunished.  ^ 

This  is  expressly  laid  down  by  Christ  in  the  para- 
ble of  the  talents,  which  supersedes  all  farther  rea- 
soning upon  the  subject.  "  Then  he  which  had  re- 
ceived one  talent,  came  and  said,  Lord,  I  know  thee 
that  thou  art  an  austere  man,  reaping  where  thou 
hast  not  sown,  and  gathering  where  thou  hast  not 
strawed ;  and  I  was  afraid,  and  hid  my  talent  in  the 
earth  ;  lo,  there  thou  hast  that  is  thine-  His  Lord 
answered  and  said  unto  him,  thou  wicked  and  sloth' 
ful  servant,  thou  knowest  (or  knewest  thou  ?)  that  I 
reap  Where  I  sowed  not,  and  gather  where  I  have  not 
strawed ;  thou  oughtest  therefore  to  have  put  my 
money  to  the  exchangers,  and  then  at  my  coming  I 
should  have  received  mine  own  with  usury.  Take 
therefore  the  talent  from  him,  and  give  it  unto  him 

♦  2  P«.  i.  5,  6,  7.  f  1  Cor.  vi.  9,  10,  \  1  Pet.  iv.  8^ 

jl  James  v.  20. 


Virtue.  S5 

which  hath  ten  talents ;  for  unto  every  one  that 
hath  shall  be  given,  and  he  shall  have  abundance  ; 
but  from  him  that  hath  not  shall  be  taken  away 
even  that  which  he  hath  ;  and  cast  ye  the  unprofitable 
sesva7it  into  outer  darkness,  there  shall  be  weeping  and 
gnashing  of  teeth. ^^'^^ 

III.  In  every  question  of  conduct  where  one  side 
is  doubtful  and  the  other  side  sai^,  we  are  bound  to 
take  the  safe  side. 

This  is  best  explained  by  an  instance,  and  I  know 
of  none  more  to  our  purpose  than  that  of  suicide. 
Suppose,  for  example's  sake,  that  it  appear  doubtful 
to  a  reasoner  upon  the  subject  whether  he  may  law- 
fully destroy  himself.  He  can  have  no  doubt,  but 
that  it  is  lawful  for  him  to  let  it  alone. 

Here  therefore  is  a  case,  in  which  one  side  is  doubt- 
ful, and  the  other  side  safe.  By  virtue  therefore  of 
our  rule,  he  is  bound  to  pursue  the  safe  side,  that  is, 
to  forbear  from  offering  violence  to  himself  whilst  a 
doi»bt  remains  upon  his  mind  concerning  the  lawful- 
ness of  suicide. 

It  is  prudent,  you  allow,  to  take  the  safe  side.  But 
our  observation  means  something  more.  We  assert 
that  the  action,  concerning  which  we  doubt,  what- 
ever it  may  be  in  itself,  or  to  another,  would  in  usy 
whilst  this  doubt  remains  upon  our  minds,  be  cer- 
tainly sinful.  The  case  is  expressly  so  adjudged  by 
St.  Paul,  with  whose  authority  we  will  for  the  pres- 
ent rest  contented.  "  I  know  and  am  persuaded  by 
the  Lord  Jesus,  that  there  is  nothing  unclean  of  it- 
self, b  ut  to  him  that  esteemeth  any  thing  to  be  unclean,  tq 

him  it  is  unclean.— -« «^ — Happy  is  he  that  con- 

demneth  not  himself  in  that  thing  which  he  allow- 
eth  ;  and  he  that  doubteth  is  damned  fcondemnedj 
if  he  eat,  for  whatsoever  is  not  of  faith  (i.  e.  not  done 
with  a  full  persuasion  of  the  lawfulness  of  it)  is 
sin."t 

*  Matt.  XXV.  24,  &c.  f  Romans,  ^.  14,  22,  23^ 

H 


BOOK   II. 


Moral  Obligation, 


CHAPTER  r. 

THE   QUESTION,   WHT  AM  I  OBLIGED  TO 
KEEP  MT  WORD  ?    CONSIDERED. 

W^HY  am  I  obliged  to  keep  my  word  ? 

Because  it  is  right,  says  one.  Because  it  is  agree- 
able to  the  fitness  of  things,  says  another.  Because 
it  is  conformable  to  reason  and  nature,  says  a  third. 
Because  it  is  conformable  to  truth,  says  a  fourth. 
Because  it  promotes  the  public  good,  says  a  fifth. 
Because  it  is  required  by  the  will  of  God,  concludes 
a  sixth. 

Upon  which  different  accounts,  two  things  are  ob- 
servable : 

First,  That  they  all  ultimately  coincide. 

The  fitness  of  things,  means  their  fitness  to  pro- 
duce happiness  :  the  nature  of  things,  means  that 
actual  constitution  of  the  world,  by  which  some 
things,  as  such  and  such  actions,  for  example,  produce 
happiness,  and  others  misery  :  reason  is  the  principle, 
by  which  we  discover  or  judge  of  this  constitution  : 
truth  is  this  judgment  expressed  or  drawn  out  into 
propositions.  So  that  it  necessarily  comes  to  pass, 
that  what  promot':'S  the  public  happiness,  or  hap- 
piness upon  the  whole,  is  agreeable  to  the  fitness  of 
things,  to  natur*,  to  reason,  and  to  truth  :  and  such 


Moral  Obligation,  S7 

(as  will  appear  by  and  by)  is  the  divine  character, 
that  what  promotes  the  general  happiness,  is  requir- 
ed by  the  will  of  God  j  and  what  has  all  the  above 
properties,  must  needs  be  right ;  for  right  means  no 
more  than  conformity  to  the  rule  we  go  by,  what- 
ever that  rule  be. 

And  this  is  the  reason  that  moralists,  from  what- 
ever different  principles  they  set  out,  commonly 
meet  in  their  conclusions  ;  that  is,  they  enjoin  the 
same  conduct,  prescribe  the  same  rules  of  duty,  and, 
with  a  few  exceptions,  deliver  upon  dubious  cases 
the  same  determinations. 

Secondly,  It  is  to  be  observed,  that  these  answers 
all  leave  the  matter  short ;  for  the"  inquirer  may 
turn  round  upon  his  teacher  with  a  second  ques- 
tion, in  which  he  will  expect  to  be  satisfied,  namely, 
lu/jy  am  I  obliged  to  do  what  is  right ;  to  act  agree- 
ably to  the  fitness  of  things ;  to  conform  to  reason, 
nature,  or  truth  ;  to  promote  the  public  good,  or 
to  obey  the  will  of  God  ? 

The  proper  method  of  conducting  the  inquiry  is, 
first,  to  examine  what  we  mean,  when  we  say  a  man. 
is  obliged  to  do  any  thing,  and  then,  to  shew  ivby  he 
is  obliged  to  do  the  thing  which  we  have  proposed 
as  an  example,  namely,  "  to  keep  his  word." 


CHAPTER  II. 

WHAT  WE  MEAN  WHEN  WE  SAY  A  MAN 
IS  OBLIGED  TO  DO  A  THING. 

xV  MAN  is  to  be  said  to  be  obliged,  "  when  Ijs 
is  urged  by  a  violent  moiivej  resulting  from  the  command 
of  anpther.*' 

First,  "  The  motive  must  be  violent.'*  If  a  per- 
son, who  has  done  me  some  little  service,  or  has  a 
small  place  in  his  disposal,  ask  me  upon  some  occa- 


38  NToral  OhUguiion. 

$ion  for  my  vote,  I  may  possibly  give  if  him,  ft'om  a 
motive  of  gratitude  or  expectation  ;  but  I  should 
hardly  say,  that  I  was  obliged  to  give  it  him,  because 
the  inducement  does  not  rise  high  enough.  "Where- 
as, if  a  father  or  a  master,  or  any  great  benefactor, 
or  one  on  whom  my  fortune  depends,  require  my 
vote,  I  give  it  him  of  course  ;  and  my  answer  to  ail 
who  ask  me  why  I  voted  so  and  so,  is,  that  my  fa- 
ther or  my  master  obliged  me  j  and  that  I  had  receiv- 
ed so  many  favours  from,  or  had  so  great  a  de- 
pendence upon  such  a  one,  that  I  was  obliged  to  vote 
as  he  directed  me. 

Secondly,  "  It  must  result  from  the  command 
of  another."  Offer  a  man  a  gratuity  for  doing  any 
thing,  for  seizing,  for  example,  an  offender,  he  is  not 
obliged  by  your  offer  to  do  it ;  nor  could  he  say  he 
is,  though  he  may  be  induced^  persuaded,  prevailed 
upon,  tempied.  If  a  magistrate,  or  the  man's  imme- 
diate superior  command  it,  he  coiisiders  himself  as 
obliged  lo  comply,  though  possibly  he  would  lose  less 
by  a  rufusal  in  this  case,  than  in  the  former. 

I  will  not  undertake  to  say  that  the  words  obliga- 
tion and  obliged  are  used  uniformly  in  this  sense,  or 
always  with  this  distinction  ;  nor  is  it  possible  to  tie 
down  popular  phrases  to  any  constant  signification  : 
but,  wherever  the  motive  is  violent  enough,  and 
coupled  with  the  idea  of  command,  authority,  law, 
or  the  will  of  a  superior,  there,  I  take  it,  we  always 
reckon  ourselves  to  be  obliped. 

And  from  this  account  of  obli,'::ation  it  follows, 
that  we  can  be  obliged  to  do  nothing,  but  what  we 
ourselves  are  to  gain  or  lose  something  by  ;  for  noth- 
ing else  can  be  a  "  violent  motive"  to  us.  As  we 
should  not  be  obliged  to  obey  the  laws,  or  the  magis- 
trate, unless  rewards  or  punishments,  pleasure  or 
pain,  some  how  or  other  depended  upon  our  obedi- 
ence ;  so  neither  should  we,  "vvithout  the  same  rea- 
son, be  obliged  to  do  what  is  right,  to  practice  vir-. 
tiue,  or  to  obey  the  commands  of  God. 


^oral  Obligatiom  a9 


CHAPTER  III. 

TH]^  QUESTION,  WHT  AM  I  OBLIGED  TO 
KEEP  MT WORD?  RESUMED. 

Let  It  be  remembered,  that  to  be  obliged,  ^^  is 
to  be  urged  by  a  violent  motive,  resulting  from  the 
command  of  another," 

And  then  let  it  be  asked.  Why  am  I  obliged  to 
keep  my  word  ?  and  the  ansvi/er  will  be,  "  because  I 
am  urged  to  do  so  by  a  violent  motive"  (namely,  the 
expectation  of  being  after  this  life  rewarded,  if  I  do, 
or  punished  for  it,  if  I  do  not)  "  resulting  from  the 
command  of  another"  (namely,  of  God.) 

This  solution  goes  to  the  bottom  of  the  subject,  as 
no  farther  question  can  reasonably  be  asked. 

Therefore,  private  happiness  is  our  motive,  an4 
the  will  of  God  our  rule. 

When  I  first  turned  my  thoughts  to  moral  specu- 
lations, an  air  of  mystery  seemed  to  hang  over  the 
whole  subject  ;  which  arose,  I  believe,  from  hence — - 
that  I  supposed,  with  many  authors  whom  I  had 
read,  that  to  be  obliged  to  do  a  thing,  was  very  differ- 
ent from  being  induced  only  to  do  it ;  and  that  the 
obligation  to  practice  virtue,  to  do  what  is  right,  just, 
&c.  was  quite  another  thing,  and  of  another  kind, 
than  the  obligation  which  a  soldier  is  under  to  obey 
his  officer,  a  servant  his  master,  or  any  of  the  civil  and 
ordinary  obligations  of  human  life.  Whereas,  from 
what  has  been  said  it  appears^  that  moral  obligation 
is  like  all  other  obligations  ;  and  that  all  obligation  is 
nothing  more  than  an  inducement  of  sufficient 
strength,  and  resulting,  in  some  way,  from  the  com- 
mand of  another. 

There  is  always  understood  to  be  a  difference  be- 
tween an  act  oi prudence  and  an  act  of  duty.     Thus,  if 


60  Moral  Obligation, 

I  distrusted  a  man  who  owed  me  a  sum  of  money,  I 
should  reckon  it  an  act  of  prudence  to  get  another 
person  bound  with  him  ;  but  I  should  hardly  call  it 
an  act  of  duty.  On  the  other  hand,  it  would  be 
thought  a  very  unusual  and  loose  kind  of  language, 
to  say,  that  as  I  had  made  such  a  promise  it  was  pru- 
rient to  perform  it ;  or  that  as  my  friend,  when  he 
went  abroad,  placed  a  box  of  jewels  in  my  hands,  it 
would  be  prudeiit  in  me  to  preserve  it  for  him  till  he 
returned. 

Now,  in  what,  you  will  ask,  does  the  difference  con- 
sist ?  inasmuch  as,  according  to  our  account  of  the 
matter,  both  in  the  one  case  and  the  other,  in  acts  of 
duty  as  well  as  acts  of  prudence,  we  consider  solely 
what  we  ourselves  shall  gain  or  lose  by  the  act  ? 

The  difference,  and  the  only  difference,  is  this; 
that,  in  the  one  case  we  consider  what  we  shall  gain 
or  lose  in  the  present  world  ;  in  the  other  case  we 
consider  what  also  we  shall  gain  or  lose  in  the  world 
tp  come. 

Those  who  would  establish  a  system  of  morality, 
independent  of  a  future  state,  must  look  out  for  some 
different  idea  of  moral  obligation ;  unless  they  can 
shew  that  virtue  conducts  the  possessor  to  certaiji  hap- 
piness in  this  life,  or  to  a  much  greater  share  of  it, 
than  he  could  attain  by  a  different  behaviour. 

To  us  there  are  two  great  questions : 

I.  Will  there  be  after  this  life  any  distribution  of 
rewards  and  punishments  at  all  ? 

II.  If  there  be,  what  actions  will  be  rewarded,  and 
what  will  be  punished  ? 

The  first  question  comprises  the  credibility  of  the 
Christian  religion,  together  with  the  presumptive 
proofs  of  a  future  retribution  from  the  light  of  na- 
ture. The  second  question  comprises  the  province 
of  morality.     Both  questions  are  too  much  for  pne 


The  Will  of  God.  61 

work.  The  affirmative  therefore  of  the  first,  although 
we  confess  that  it  is  the  foundation  upon  which  the 
whole  fabric  rests,  must  in  this  treatise  be  taken  for 
granted. 


CHAPTER   IV. 
THE  WILL  OF  GOD.  ^ 

As  the  will  of  God  is  our  rule,  to  inquire  what  \ 
is  our  duty,  or  what  we  are  obliged  to  do,  in  any  m-\ 
stance,  is,  in  effect,  to  inquire  what  is  the  will  of  God 
in  that  instance  ?    which  consequently  becomes  the 
whole  business  of  morality. 

Now  there  are  two  methods  of  coming  at  the  will 
of  God  on  any  point : 

I.  By  his  express  declarations,  when  they  are  to 
be  had  ;  and  which  must  be  sought  for  in  scripture, 

II.  By  what  we  can  discover  of  his  designs  and  dis- 
positions from  his  works,  or,  as  we  usually  call  it,  the 
light  of  nature. 


And  here  we  may  observe  the  absurdity  of  separa- 
ting natural  and  revealed  religion  from  each  other- 
The  object  of  both  is  the  same — to  discover  the  will 
of  God — and,  provided  we  do  but  discover  it,  it  mat- 
ters nothing  by  what  means. 

An  ambassador,  judging  by  what  he  knows  of  his 
sovereign's  disposition,  and  arguing  from  what  he 
has  observed  of  his  conduct,  or  is  acquainted  with 
his  designs,  may  take  his  measures  in  many  cases  with 
safety  ;  and  presume,  with  great  probability,  how 
his  master  would  have  him  act  on  most  occasions  that 
arise  :  but  if  he  have  his  commission  and  instructions 
iij  his  pocket,  it  would  be  ^trajige  not  to  look  into 


m  TheWillofGoL 

them.  He  will  naturally  conduct  himself  by  botii 
rules  ;  when  his  instructions  are  clear  and  positive, 
there  is  an  end  of  all  farther  deliberation  (unless  in- 
deed he  suspect  their  authenticity)  :  where  his  in- 
structions are  silent  or  dubious,  he  will  endeavour  to 
supply  or  explain  them,  by  what  he  has  bc-en  able  to 
collect  from  other  quarters  of  his  master's  general 
inclination  or  intentions. 

Mr.  Hume,  in  his  fourth  Appendix  to  his  Princi- 
ples of  Morals,  has  been  pleased  to  complain  of  the 
modern  scheme  of  uniting  Ethics  with  the  Christian 
Theology.  They  who  find  themselves  disposed  to 
join  in  this  complaint  will  do  well  to  observe  what 
Mn  Hume  himself  has  been  able  to  make  of  morality 
without  this  union.  And  for  that  purpose,  let  them 
read  the  second  part  of  the  ninth  section  of  the  above 
essay  ;  which  part  contains  the  practical  application 
of  the  whole  treatise. — a  treatise  which  Mr.  Hume 
declares  to  be  "  incomparably  the  best  he  ever  wrote." 
"When  they  have  read  it  over,  let  them  consider, 
tv'hether  any  motives  there  proposed  are  likely  to  be 
found  sufficient  to  withhold  men  from  ihe  gratifica- 
tion of  lust,  revenge,  envy,  ambition,  avarice,  or  to 
pj-event  the  existence  of  these  passions.  Unless  they 
rise  up  from  this  celebrated  essay,  with  Sironger  im- 
pressions upon  their  minds,  than  it  ever  left  upon 
mine,  they  will  acknowledge  the  necessity  of  addi- 
tional sanctions.  But  the  necessity  of  these  sanctions 
is  not  now  the  question.  If  they  be  in  fact  established, 
if  the  rewards  and  punishments  held  fovth  in  the 
gospel  will  actually  come  to  pass,  they  must  be  con- 
sidered. Such  as  reject  the  Christian  religion  are  to 
make  the  best  shift  they  can  to  bu'ld  up  a  system, 
and  lay  the  foundations  of  morality  without  it. 
But  it  appears  to  me  a  great  inconsistency  in  those 
who  receive  Christianity,  and  expect  something  to 
come  of  it,  to  endeavour  to  keep  all  such  expecta- 
tions out  of  sight  in  their  reasonings  cojicerning  hu- 
man duty. 


The  Divine  Benevolence*  63 

The  method  of  coming  at  the  will  of  God  concern- 
ing any  action,  by  the  light  of  nature,  is  to  enquire  in- 
to "  the  tendency  of  the  action  to  promote  or  dimin- 
ish the  general  happiness."  This  rule  proceeds  upon 
the  presumption,  that  God  Almighty  wills  and  v  ish- 
es  the  happiness  of  his  creatures  ;  and  consequently, 
that  those  actions,  which  promote  that  will  and  wish, 
must  be  agreeable  to  him  ;  and  the  contrary. 

As  this  presumption  is  the  foundation  of  our 
whole  system,  it  becomes  necessary  to  explain  the 
reasons  upon  which  it  rests. 


CHAPTER     V. 
THE  DIVINE  BENEVOLENCE. 

\/VHEN  God  created  the  human  species,  ei- 
ther he  wished  their  happiness,  or  he  wished  their 
misery,  or  he  was  indifferent  and  unconcerned  about 
both. 

If  he  had  wished  our  misery,  he  might  have 
made  sure  of  his  purpose,  by  forming  our  senses  to 
be  as  many  sores  and  pains  to  us,  as  they  are  now 
instruments  of  gratification  and  enjoyment ;  or  by 
placing  us  amidst  objects  so  ill  suited  to  our  percep- 
tions, as  to  have  continually  offended  us,  instead  of 
ministering  to  our  refreshment  and  delight.  He 
might  have  made,  for  example,  every  thing  we  tast- 
ed bitter ;  every  thing  we  saw  loathsome ;  every 
thing  we  touched  a  sting  j  every  smell  a  stench  j  and 
every  sound  a  discord. 

If  he  had  been  indifferent  about  our  happiness  or 
misery,  we  must  impute  to  our  good  fortune  (as  all 
design  by  this  supposition  is  excluded)  both  the  ca- 
pacity of  our  senses  to  receive  pleasure,  and  the  sup- 
ply of  external  objects  fitted  to  produce  it. 


64  The  Divine  Benevolence* 

But  either  of  these,  and  still  more  both  of  them, 
being  too  much  to  be  attributed  to  accident,  noth- 
ing remains  but  the  first  supposition,  that  God,  when, 
he  created  the  human  species,  wished  their  happi- 
ness, and  made  for  them  the  provision  which  he  has 
made,  with  that  view,  and  for  that  purpose. 

The  same  argument  may  be  proposed  in  different 
terms,  thus  :  Contrivance  proves  design  ;  and  the 
predominant  tendency  of  the  contrivance  indicates 
the  disposition  of  the  designer.  The  world  abounds 
with  contrivances ;  and  all  the  contrivances  which 
we  are  acquainted  with,  are  directed  to  beneficial 
purposes.  Evil  no  doubt  exists  ;  but  is  never,  that 
we  can  perceive,  the  object  of  contrivance.  Teeth 
are  contrived  to  eat,  not  to  ache  ;  their  aching  now 
and  then  is  incidental  to  the  contrivance,  perhaps, 
inseparable  from  it ;  or  even,  if  you  will,  let  it  be 
called  a  defect  in  the  contrivance  ;  but  it  is  not  the 
object  of  it.  This  is  a  distinction  which  well  deserves 
to  be  attended  to.  In  describing  implements  of  hus- 
bandry, you  would  hardly  say  of  a  sickle,  that  it  is 
made  to  cut  the  reaper's  fingers,  though  from  the 
construction  of  the  instrument,  and  the  manner  of 
using  it,  this  mischief  often  happens.  But  if  you 
had  occasion  to  describe  instruments  of  torture  or 
execution,  this  engine,  you  would  say,  is  to  extend 
the  sinews  ;  this  to  dislocate  the  joints  ;  this  to 
break  the  bones  ;  this  to  scorch  the  soles  of  the  feet. 
Here  pain  and  misery  are  the  very  objects  of  the 
contrivance.  Now  nothing  of  this  sort  is  to  be 
found  in  the  works  of  nature.  We  never  discover 
a  train  of  contrivance  to  bring  about  an  evil  purpose. 
No  anatomist  ever  discov^^red  a  system  of  organiza- 
tion, calculated  to  produce  pain  and  disease  ;  or,  in 
explaining  the  parts  of  the  human  body,  ever  said, 
this  to  irritate ;  this  to  inflame ;  this  duct  is  to 
convey  the  gravel  to  the  kidneys  ;  this  gland  to  se- 
crete the  humour  which  forms  the  gout :  if  by 
chance  he  come  at  a  part  of  which  he  knows  not 


The  Dhine  Benevolence,  €5 

the  use,  the  most  he  can  say  is,  that  it  Is  useless  ;  no 
one  ever  suspects  that  it  is  put  there  to  incommode, 
to  annoy  or  torment.  Since  then  God  hath  called 
forth  his  consummate  wisdom  to  contrive  and  pro- 
vide for  our  happiness,  and  the  u'orld  appears  to 
have  been  constituted  with  this  design  at  first,  so 
long  as  this  constitution  is  upholden  by  him,  we  must 
in  reason  suppose  the  same  design  to  continue. 

The  contemplation  of  universal  nature  rather  be- 
wilders the  mind  than  affects  it.  There  is  always  a 
bright  spot  in  the  prospect  upon  which  the  eye  rests  ; 
a  single  example,  perhaps,  by  which  each  man  finds 
himself  more  convinced  than  by  all  others  put  togeth- 
er. I  seem,  for  my  own  parr,  to  see  the  benevo- 
lence of  the  Dtity  more  clearly  in  the  pleasures  of 
very  young  children,  than  in  any  thing  in  the  world. 
The  pleasures  of  grown  persons  may  be  reckoned 
partly  of  their  own  procuring ;  especially  if  there 
has  been  any  industry,  or  contrivance,  or  pursuit, 
to  come  at  them  ;  or  if  they  are  founded,  like  mu- 
sic, painting,  he.  upon  any  qualification  of  their  own 
acquiring.  But  the  pleasures  of  a  healthy  infant 
are  so  manifestly  provided  for  it  by  another^  and  the 
benevolence  of  the  provision  is  so  unquestionable, 
that  every  child  1  see  at  its  sport  affords  to  my  mind 
a  kind  of  sensible  evidence  of  the  finp-er  of  God, 
and  of  the  disposition  which  directs  it. 

But  the  example,  which  strikes  each  man  most 
strongly,  is  the  true  example  for  him  ;  and  hardly 
two  minds  hit  upon  the  same  ;  which  shews  the 
abundance  of  such  examples  about  us. 

We  conclude,  therefore,  that  God  wills  and  wish- 
es the  happiness  of  his  creatures.  And  this  conclu- 
sion being  once  e.>tabHshed,  we  are  at  liberty  to  go 
on  with  the  rule  built  upon  it,  namely,  "  that  the 
method  of  coming  at  the  will  of  God,  concerning 
any  action,  by  the  light  of  nature,  i>  to  inquire  into 
the  tendency  of  that  action  to  promote  or  diminish 
the  general  happiness." 


66  Utility. 

CHAPTER  VI. 

UTILITY. 

oO  then  actions  are  to  be  estimated  by  their, 
tendency.*     Whatever  is  expedient  is  rigiit.     It  is 
the  utiHty  of  any  moral  rule  alone  which  constitutes 
the  obligation  of  it. 

But  to  all  this  there  seems  a  plain  objection,  viz. 
that  many  actions  are  useful,  which  no  man  in  his 
senses  will  allow  to  be  right.  There  are  occasions, 
in  which  the  hand  of  the  assassin  would  be  very  use- 
ful. The  present  possessor  of  some  great  estate  em- 
ploys his  influence  and  fortune  to  annoy,  corrupt,  or 
oppre>s  all  about  him.  His  estate  would  devolve,  by 
his  death,  to  a  successor  of  an  opposite  character.  It 
is  useful,  therefore,  to  dispatch  such  a  one  as  soon  as 
possible  out  of  the  way ;  as  the  neighbourhood  will 
change  thereby  a  pernicious  tyrant  for  a  wise  and 
generous  benefactor.  It  may  be  useful  to  rob  a  mi- 
ser and  give  the  money  to  the  poor ;  as  the  money, 
no  doubt,  would  produce  more  happiness,  by  being 
laid  out  in  food  and  clothing  for  half  a  dozen  distress- 
ed families,  than  by  continuing  locked  up  in  a  miser\s 
chest.  It  may  be  useful  to  get  possession  of  a  place, 
a  piece  of  preferment,  or  of  a  seat  in  parliament,  by 
bribery  or  false  swearing  ;  as  by  means  of  them  we 
may  serve  the  public  more  effectually  than  in  our 
private  station.  What  then  shall  we  say  ?  Must  we 
admit  these  actions  to  be  right,  which  would  be  fo 

*  Actions  in  the  abstract  are  riglit  or  wrong,  according  to  i\\e\T  tendency ; 
the  agent  is  virtuous  or  vicious,  according  to  his  design.  Thus,  if  the  ques- 
tion be,  W^hether  relieving  comiron  beggars  be  right  or  wrong  ?  we  inquire 
into  the  tendency  of  such  a  conduct  to  the  public  advantage  or  inconvenience. 
If  the  question  be.  Whether  a  man  remarkable  for  this  sort  of  bounty,  is  to 
be  esteemed  virtuous  for  that  reason  ?  we  inquire  into  his  design,  whether  his 
liberality  sprung  from  charity  or  from  ostentation  ?  It  is  evident  that  our 
concern  is  with  actions  in  the  abstract. 


Utility.  67 

justify  assassination,  plunder,  and  perjury  ;  or  must 
we  give  up  our  principle,  that  the  criterion  of  right 
is  utility  ? 

It  is  not  necessary  to  do  either. 

The  true  answer  is  this  ;  that  these  actions,  after 
all,  are  not  useful,  and  for  that  reason,  and  that 
alone,  are  not  right. 

To  see  this  point  perfectly,  it  must  be  observed 
that  the  bad  consequences  of  action  are  twofold, 
particular  and  general. 

The  particular  bad  consequence  of  an  action,  is 
the  mischief  which  that  single  action  directly  and 
immediately  occasions. 

The  general  bad  consequence  is,  the  violation  of 
some  necessary  or  useful  general  rule. 

Thus  the  particular  bad  consequences  of  the  as- 
sassination above  described,  are  the  fright  and  pain 
which  the  deceased  underwent ;  the  loss  he  suffered 
of  life,  which  is  as  valuable  to  a  bad  man  as  to  a  good 
one,  or  more  so ;  the  prejudice  and  afflicrion,  of 
which  his  death  was  the  occasion,  to  his  family, 
friends,  and  dependants. 

The  ^neral  bad  consequence  Is  the  violation  of 
this  necessary  general  rule,  that  no  man  be  put  to 
death  for  his  crimes  but  by  pubHc  authority. 

Although,  therefore,  such  an  action  have  no  par- 
ticular bad  consequence,  or  greater  particular  good 
consequences,  yet  it  is  not  usefi^l  by  reason  of  the 
general  consequence,  which  is  of  more  importance, 
and  which  is  evil.  And  the  same  of  the  other  two 
instances,  and  of  a  million  more,  which  might  be 
mentioned. 

But  as  this  solution  supposes,  that  the  moral  gov- 
ernment of  the  world  must  proceed  by  general  rules, 
it  remains  that  we  shew  the  necessity  of  this. 


68  Th'e  Necessity  of  General  Rules. 

CHAPTER     VII. 

THE  NECESSITY  OF  GENERAL  RULES. 

1  OU  cannot  permit  one  action  and  forbid 
another,  without  shewing  a  difference  between  them. 
Consequently,  the  same  sort  of  action  must  be  gener- 
ally permitted  or  generally  forbidden.  Where, 
therefore,  the  general  permission  of  them  would  be 
pernicious,  it  becomes  nece>sary  to  lay  down  and  sup- 
port the  rule  which  generally  forbids  them. 

Thus,  to  return  once  more  to  the  case  of  the  assas- 
sin. The  assassin  knocked  the  rich  villain  on  the  head, 
because  he  thought  him  better  out  of  the  way  than 
in  it.  If  you  allow  this  excuse  in  the  pre:.ent  in- 
stance, you  must  allow  it  to  all,  who  act  in  the  same 
manner,  and  from  the  same  motive  ;  that  is,  you 
must  allow  every  man  to  kill  any  one  he  meets,  whom 
he  thinks  noxious  or  useless ;  which,  in  the  event, 
would  be  to  commit  every  man's  life  and  safety  to 
the  spleen,  fury,  and  fanaticism  of  his  neighbour — a 
disposition  of  affairs  which  would  soon  fill  the  world 
W'ith  misery  and  confusion ;  and  ere  long  put  an 
end  to  human  society,  if  not  to  the  human  species. 

The  necei^sity  of  general  rules  in  human  govern- 
ments is  apparent :  but  whether  the  same  necessity 
subsist  in  the  divine  economy,  in  that  distribution  of 
rewards  and  punishments,  to  which  a  moralist  looks 
forward,  may  be  doubted. 

I  answer,  that  general  rules  are  necessary  to  every 
moral  government ;  and  by  moral  government  I 
mean  any  dispensanon,  whose  object  is  to  influence 
the  conduct  of  reasonable  creatures. 

For  if,  of  two  actions  perfectly  similar,  one  be  pun- 
ished, and  the  other  be  rewarded  or  forgiven,  which 
is  the  consequence  of  rejecting  general  rules,  the  sub- 
jects of  such  a  dispensation  would  no  longer  know. 


The  Necessity  of  General  Rides,  @9 

either  what  to  expect  or  how  to  act.  Rewards  and 
punishmems  would  cease  to  be  such — would  become 
accidents.  Like  the  stroke  of  a  thunderbolt,  or  the 
discovery  of  a  mine,  like  a  blank  or  benefit  ticket  in 
a  lottery,  they  would  occasion  pain  or  pleasure  when 
they  happened  ;  but  following  in  no  known  order, 
from  any  particular  course  of  action,  they  could  hav.e 
no  previous  influence  or  effect  upon  the  conduct. 

An  attention  to  general  rules,  therefore,  is  includ- 
ed in  the  very  idea  of  reward  and  punishment.  Con- 
sequently whatever  reason  there  is  to  expect  future  re- 
ward and  punishment  at  the  hand  of  God,  there  is 
the  same  reason  to  believe,  that  he  will  proceed  in. 
the  distribution  of  it  by  general  rules. 


Before  we  prosecute  the  consideration  of  general 
consequences  any  farther,  it  may  be  proper  to  antici- 
pate a  reflection,  which  will  be  apt  enough  to  sug- 
gest itself  in  the  progress  of  our  argument. 

As  the  general  consequence  of  an  action,  upon, 
which  so  much  of  the  guilt  of  a  bad  action  depends, 
consists  in  the  example ;  it  should  seem,  that,  if  the 
action  be  done  with  perfect  secrecy,  so  as  to  furnish 
no  bud  example,  that  ])art  of  the  guilt  drops  off. 
In  the  case  of  suicide,  for  instance,  if  a  man  can  so 
manage  matters,  as  to  take  away  his  own  life,  with- 
out being  known  or  suspected  to  have  done  so,  he 
is  not  chargeable  with  any  mischief  from  the  exam- 
ple ;  nor  does  his  punishment  seem  necessary,  in 
order  to  save  the  authority  of  any  general  rule. 

In  the  first  place,  those  who  reason  in  this  manner 
do  not  observe  that  they  are  setting  up  a  general 
rule,  of  all  others  the  least  to  be  endured  ;  namely, 
that  secrecy,  whenever  secrecy  is  practicable,  will 
justify  any  action. 

Were  such  a  rule  admitted,  for  instance,  in  the 
case  above  produced,  is  there  not  reason  to  fear  that 
people  would  be  disappearing  perpetually  ? 


70  The  Consideration  of 

In  the  next  place,  I  would  wish  them  to  be  well 
satisfied  about  the  points  proposed  in  the  following 
queries : 

1.  Whether  the  scriptures  do  not  teach  us  to  ex- 
pect that  at  the  general  judgment  of  the  world,  the 
most  secret  actions  will  be  brought  to  light  ?* 

2.  For  what,  purpose  can  this  be,  but  to  make 
them  the  objects  of  reward  and  punishment  ? 

3.  Whether  being  so  brought  to  light,  they  will 
not  fall  under  the  operation  of  those  equal  and  im- 
partial rules,  by  which  God  will  deal  with  his  crea- 
tures ? 

They  will  then  become  examples,  whatever  they 
be  now ;  and  require  the  same  treatment  from  the 
judge  and  governor  of  the  moral  world,  as  if  they 
had  been  detected  from  the  first. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE  CONSIDERATION  OF  GENERAL  CON- 
^  SEQUENCES  PURSUED. 

1  HE  general  consequence  of  any  action  may 
be  estimated,  by  asking  what  would  be  the  conse- 
quence, if  the  same  sort  of  actions  were  generally 
permitted.  But  suppose  they  were,  and  a  thousand 
such  actions  perpetrated  under  this  permission  ;  is  it 
just  to  charge  a  single  action  with  the  collected  guilt 
and  mischief  of  the  whole  thousand  ?  I  answer,  that 
the  reason  for  prohibiting  and  punishing  an  action 
(and  this  reason  may  be  called  xhe  guilt  of  the  action, 
if  you  please)  will  always  be  in  proportion  to  the 
whole  mischief  that   would  arise  from  the  general 


*  "  In  the  day  vjrhen  God  shall  judge  the  secrets  of  men  by  Jesus  Christ," 
Rom.  xi.  IG. — "  Judge  nothing  before  the  time  until  the  Lord  come,  who 
will  bring  to  light  the  hidden  things  of  darknessj  and  will  make  manifest 
the  counsels  of  the  heart."     1  Cor.  iv.  5. 


General  Consequences  pursued,  71 

impunity  and  toleration  of  actions  of  the  same 
sort. 

"  Whatever  is  expedient  is  right."  But  then  it 
must  be  expedient  upon  the  whole,  at  the  Jong  run, 
in  all  its  effects,  collateral  and  remote,  as  well  as  in 
those  which  are  Immediate  and  direct ;  a«  it  is  obvi- 
ous, that,  in  computing  consequences,  it  mUkes  no 
difference  in  what  way  or  at  what  distance  they,  ensue. 

To  impress  this  doctrine  upon  the  minds  of  young 
readers,  and  to  teach  them  to  extend  their  views  be- 
yond the  immediate  mischief  of  a  crime,  I  shall  here 
subjoia.  a  string  of  instances,  in  which  the  particular 
consequence  is  comparatively  insignificant ;  and 
where  the  malignity  of  the  crime,  and  the  severity 
with  which  human  laws  pursue  it,  is  almost  entirely 
founded  upon  the  general  consequence. 

The  particular  consequence  of  coining  Is,  the  loss 
of  a  guinea,  or  of  half  a  guinea,  to  the  person  who 
receives  the  counterfeit  money  ;  the  general  conse- 
quence (by  which  I  mean  the  consequence  that  would 
ensue,  if  the  same  practice  were  generally  permitted) 
is  to  abolish  the  use  of  money. 

The  particular  consequence  of  forgery  is,  a  damage 
of  twenty  or  thirty  pounds  to  the  man  who  accepts 
the  forged  bill  ;  the  general  consequence  is  the  stop- 
page of  paper  currency. 

The  particular  consequence  of  sheep-stealing,  or 
horse-stealing  is,  a  loss  to  the  owner,  to  the  amount 
of  the  value  of  the  sheep  or  horse  stolen  ;  the  general 
consequence  is,  that  the  land  could  not  be  occupied, 
nor  the  market  supplied  with  this  kind  of  stock. 

The  particular  consequence  of  breaking  into  a 
house  empty  of  inhabitants  is,  the  loss  of  a  pair  of 
silver  candlesticks,  or  a  few  spoons  ;  the  general  con- 
sequence is,  that  nobody  could  leave  their  house 
empty. 

The  particular  consequence  of  smuggling  may  be 
a  deduction  from  the  national  fund,  too  minute  for 

K 


f 2  The  Consideration  of,  l^fc. 

computation  :  the  general  consequence  is,  the  de- 
struction of  one  entire  branch  of  public  revenue  ;  a 
proportionable  increase  of  the  burthen  upon  other 
branches  ;  and  the  ruin  of  all  fair  and  open  trade  in 
the  article  smuggled. 

The  particular  consequence  of  an  officer's  breaking 
his  parole  is,  the  loss  of  a  prisoner,  who  was  possibly 
not  worth  keeping  ;  the  general  consequence  is,  that 
this  mitigation  of  captivity  would  be  refused  to  all 
others. 

And  what  proves  incontestibly  the  superior  import- 
ance of  general  consequences  is,  that  crimes  are  the 
same,  and  treated  in  the  same  manner,  though  the 
particular  consequence  be  very  different.  The  crime 
and  fate  of  the  house-breaker  is  the  same  whether 
his  booty  be  five  pounds  or  fifty.  And  the  reason 
is,  that  the  general  consequence  is  the  same. 

The  want  of  this  distinction  between  particular 
and  general  consequences,  or  rather  the  not  sufficient- 
ly attending  to  the  latter,  is  the  cause  of  that  perplex- 
ity which  we  meet  with  in  ancient  moralists.  On 
the  one  hand,  they  were  sensible  of  the  absurdity  of 
pronouncing  actions  good  or  evil,  without  regard  to 
the  good  or  evil  they  produced.  On  the  other  hand, 
they  were  startled  at  the  conclusions  to  which  a  steady 
adherence  to  consequences  seemed  sometimes  to  con- 
duct them.  To  relieve  this  difficulty,  they  contriv- 
ed the  ra  7r,j67rav  Or  tlic  honestum^  by  which  terms  they 
meant  to  constitute  a  measure  of  right,  distinct  from 
utility.  Whilst  the  iitiU  served  them,  that  is,  whilst 
it  corresponded  with  their  habitual  notions  of  the 
rectitude  of  actions,  they  went  by  it.  When  they 
fell  in  with  such  cases  as  those  mentioned  in  the  sixth 
Chapter,  they  took  leave  of  their  guide,  and  resorted 
to  the  honestum.  The  only  account  they  could  give 
of  the  matter  was,  that  these  actions  might  be  useful ; 
but,  because  they  were  not  at  the  same  time  honesta^ 
they  were  by  no  means  to  be  deemed  just  or  right. 


Of  Right.  73 

From  the  principles  delivered  in  this  and  the  two 
preceding  Chapters,  a  maxim  may  be  explained,  which 
is  in  every  man*s  mouth,  and  in  most  men's  without 
meaning,  viz.  "  not  to  do  evil  that  good  may  come  :'* 
that  is,  let  us  not  violate  a  general  rule  for  the  sake 
of  any  particular  good  consequence  we  may  expect. 
Which  is  for  the  most  part  a  salutary  caution,  the  ad- 
vantage seldom  compensating  for  the  violation  of 
the  rule.  Strictly  speaking,  that  cannot  be  "  evil" 
from  which  "  good  comes  ;"  but  in  this  way,  and 
with  a  view  to  the  distinction  between  particular  and 
general  consequences,  it  may. 

We  will  conclude  this  subject  of  consequences  with 
the  following  reflection.  A  man  may  imagine,  that 
any  action  of  his,  with  respect  to  the  public,  must 
be  inconsiderable  ;  so  also  is  the  agent.  If  his  crime 
produce  but  a  small  effect  upon  the  universal  inter- 
est, his  punishment  or  destruction  bears  a  small  pro- 
portion to  the  sum  of  happiness  and  misery  in  the 
creation. 


CHAPTER   IX. 
OF  RIGHT. 

ivIGHT  and  obligation  are  reciprocal ;  that  is, 
wherever  there  is  a  right  in  one  person,  there  is  a 
corresponding  obligation  upon  others.  If  one  man 
has  a  "  right"  to  an  estate,  others  are  "  obliged"  to 
abstain  from  it.  If  parents  have  a  "  right'*  to  rev- 
erence from  their  children,  children  are  "  obliged'* 
to  reverence  their  parents ;  and  so  in  all  other  in- 
stances. 

Now,  because  moral  obligation  depends,  as  we  have 
seen,  upon  the  will  of  God,  right,  which  is  correla- 
tive to  it,  must  depend  upon  the  same.  Right  there- 
fore signifies,  consistency  with  the  will  of  God, 


74  Of  Right, 

But  if  the  divine  will  determine  the  distinction  of 
right  and  wrong,  what  else  is  it  but  an  identical 
proposition,  to  say  of  God,  that  he  acts  right  ?  or 
how  is  it  possible  even  to  conceive  that  he  should  act 
wrong  ?  yet  these  assertions  are  intelligible  and  sig- 
nificant. The  case  is  this :  by  virtue  of  the  two 
principles,  that  God  wills  the  happiness  of  his  crea- 
tures, and  that  the  will  of  God  is  the  measure  of 
right  and  wrong,  we  arrive  at  certain  conclusions ; 
which  conclusions  become  rules  ;  and  we  soon  learn 
to  pronounce  actions  right  or  wrong,  according  as 
they  agree  or  disagree  with  our  rules,  without  look- 
ing any  farther  ;  and  when  the  habit  is  once  estab- 
lished of  stopping  at  the  rules,  we  can  go  back  and 
compare  with  these  rules  even  the  divine  conduct 
itself,  and  yet  it  may  be  true  (only  not  observed  by 
us  at  the  time)  that  the  rules  themselves  are  deduced 
from  the  divine  will. 

Right  is  a  quality  of  persons  or  actions. 

Of  persons  ;  as  w-ten  we  say,  such  a  one  has  a 
'^  right'*  to  this  estate;  parents  have  a  "  right"  to 
reverence  from  their  children  ;  the  king  to  allegi- 
ance from  his  subjects  ;  masters  have  a  "  right'*  to 
their  servants'  labour  ;  a  man  hath  not  a  "  right" 
over  his  own  life. 

Of  actions;  as  in  such  expressions  as  the  following  : 
it  is  "  right"  to  punish  murder  with  death  ;  his  be- 
haviour on  that  occasion  was  "  right ;"  it  is  not 
"  right'*  to  send  an  unfortunate  debtor  to  jail ;  he 
did  or  acted  "  right,**  who  gave  up  his  place  rather 
than  vote  against  his  judgment. 

In  this  latter  set  of  expressions,  you  may  substitute 
the  definition  of  right  above  given  for  the  term  itself, 
V.  g.  it  "  is  consistent  with  the  will  of  God'*  to  pun- 
ish murder  with  death — his  behaviour  on  that  occa- 
sion was  "  consistent  with  the  will  of  God" — it  is  not 
"  consistent  with  the  will  of  God"  to  send  an  unfor- 
jiunate  debtor  to  jail — he  did,  or  acted  *'  consistently 


The  Division  of  Rights.  75 

with  the  will  of  God,"  who  gave  up  his  place  rather 
than  vote  against  his  judgment. 

In  the  former  set,  you  must  vary  the  phrase  a  lit- 
tle, when  you  introduce  the  definition  instead  of  the 
term.  Such  a  one  has  a  "  right"  to  this  estate,  that 
is,  it  is  "  consistent  with  the  will  of  God,"  that  such 
a  one  should  have  it — parents  have  a  "  right"  to  rev- 
erence from  their  children,  that  is,  it  is  "  consistent 
with  the  will  of  God,"  that  children  should  rever- 
ence their  parents  ;  and  the  same  of  the  rest. 


CHAPTER     X. 
THE  DIVISION  OF  RIGHTS. 

Rights,  when  applied  to  persons,  are, 
Natural  or  adventitious. 
Alienable  or  unalienable. 
Perfect  or  imperfect. 

First,  Rights  are  natural  or  adventitious. 

Natural  rights  are  such  as  would  belong  to  a  man, 
although  there  subsisted  in  the  world  no  civil  gov- 
ernment whatever. 

Adventitious  rights  are  such  as  would  not. 

Natural  rights  are,  a  man's  right  to  his  life,  limbs, 
and  liberty  ;  his  right  to  the  produce  of  his  person- 
al labour ;  to  the  use  in  common  with  others,  of 
air,  light,  water.  If  a  thousand  different  persons, 
from  a  thousand  different  corners  of  the  world,  were 
cast  together  upon  a  desert  island,  they  would  from 
the  first  be  every  one  entitled  to  these  rights. 

Adventitious  rights  are,  the  right  of  a  king  over 
his  subjects  ;  of  a  general  over  his  soldiers ;  of  a 
judge  over  the  life  and  liberty  of  a  prisoner;  a  right 
to  elect  or  appoint  magistrates,  to  impose  taxes,  de- 


76  The  Division  of  Rights, 

cide  disputes,  direct  the  descent  or  disposition  of 
property  ;  a  right,  in  a  word,  in  any  one  man  or 
particular  body  of  men,  to  make  laws  and  regula- 
tions for  the  rest.  For  none  of  these  rights  would 
exist  in  the  newly  inhabited  island. 

And  here  it  will  be  asked,  how  adventitious 
rights  are  created  ;  or,  which  is  the  same  thing,  how 
any  new  rights  can  accrue  from  the  establishment  of 
civil  society ;  as  rights  of  all  kinds,  we  remember, 
depend  upon  the  will  of  God,  and  civil  society  is 
but  the  ordinance  and  institution  of  man  ?  For  the 
solution  of  this  difficulty,  we  must  return  to  our  first 
principles.  God  wills  the  happiness  of  mankind, 
and  the  existence  of  civil  society,  as  conducive  to 
that  happiness.  Consequently,  many  things,  which 
are  useful  for  the  support  of  civil  society  in  general, 
or  for  the  conduct  and  conversation  of  particular 
societies  already  established,  are,  for  that  reason, 
"  consistent  with  the  will  of  God,"  or  "  right,'* 
which  without  that  reason,  i.  e.  without  the  estab- 
lishment of  civil  society,  would  not  have  been  so. 

From  whence  also  it  appears,  that  adventitious 
rights,  though  immediately  derived  from  human 
appointment,  are  not  for  that  reason  less  sacred  than 
natural  rights,  nor  the  obligation  to  respect  them 
less  cogent.  They  both  ultimately  rely  upon  the 
same  authority,  the  will  of  God.  Such  a  man 
claims  a  right  to  a  particular  estate.  He  can  shew, 
it  is  true,  nothing  for  his  right,  but  a  rule  of  the 
civil  community  to  which  he  belongs  ;  and  this  rule 
may  be  arbitrary,  capricious  and  absurd.  Notwith- 
standing all  this,  there  would  be  the  same  sin  in  dis- 
possessing the  man  of  his  estate  by  craft  or  violence, 
as  if  it  had  been  assigned  to  him,  like  the  partition  of 
the  country  amongst  the  tvi^elve  tribes,  by  the  im- 
mediate "designation  and  appointment  of  heaven. 

Secondly,  Rights  are  alienable  or  unalienable. 

Which  terms  explain  themselves. 


The  Division  of  Rights.  77 

The  right  we  have  to  most  of  those  things,  which 
we  call  property,  as  houses,  lands,  money,  &;c.  is 
alienable. 

The  right  of  a  prince  over  his  people,  of  a  hus- 
band over  his  wife,  of  a  master  over  his  servant,  is 
generally  and  naturally  unalienable. 

The  distinction  depends  upon  the  mode  of  acquir- 
ing the  right.  If  the  right  originate  from  a  con- 
tract, and  be  limited  to  the  person  by  the  express 
terms  of  the  contract,  or  by  the  common  interpreta^ 
tion  of  such  contracts,  (which  is  equivalent  to  an  ex- 
press stipulation)  or  by  a  personal  condition  annexed 
to  the  right,  then  it  is  unalienable.  In  all  other  cases 
it  is  alienable. 

The  right  to  civil  liberty  is  alienable ;  though  in 
the  vehemence  of  men's  zeal  for  it,  and  in  the  lan- 
guage of  some  political  remonstrances,  it  has  often 
been  pronounced  to  be  an  unalienable  right.  The 
true  reason  why  mankind  hold  in  detestation  the 
memory  of  those  who  have  sold  their  liberty  to  a 
tyrant,  is,  that  together  with  their  own,  they  sold 
commonly,  or  endangered  the  liberty  of  others ; 
which  certainly  they  had  no  right  to  dispose  of. 

Thirdly,  Rights  are  perfect  or  imperfect. 

Perfect  rights  may  be  asserted  by  force,  or,  what 
in  civil  society  conies  into  the  place  of  private  force, 
by  course  of  law. 

Imperfect  rights  may  not. 

Examples  of  perfect  rights.  A  man's  right  to  his 
life,  person,  house  ;  for  if  these  be  attacked,  he  may 
repel  the  attack  by  instant  violence,  or  punish  the 
aggressor  by  law  :  a  man's  right  to  his  estate,  furni- 
ture, clothes,  money,  and  to  ail  ordinary  articles  ot 
property ;  for  if  they  be  injuriously  taken  from 
him,  he  may  compel  the  author  of  the  injury  to 
make  restitution  or  satisfaction. 

Examples  of  imperfect  rights.  In  elections  or  ap- 
pointments to  offices,  where  the  qualifications  are 


78  The  Division  of  Rights, 

prescribed,  the  best  qualified  candidate  has  a  right 
to  success  ;  yet  if  he  be  rejected,  he  has  no  remedy. 
He  can  neither  seize  the  officer  by  force,  nor  obtain 
any  redress  at  law ;  his  right  therefore  is  imperfect. 
A  poor  neighbour  has  aright  to  relief;  yet  if  it  be 
refused  him,  he  must  not  extort  it.  A  benefactor 
has  a  right  to  returns  of  gratitude  from  the  person 
he  has  obliged  ;  yet  if  he  meet  with  none,  he  must 
acquiesce.  Children  have  a  right  to  affection  and 
education  from  their  parents  ;  and  parents,  on  their 
part,  to  duty  and  reverence  from  their  children  ; 
yet  if  these  rights  be  on  either  side  withholden,  there 
is  no  compulsion  to  enforce  them. 

It  may  be  at  first  view  difficult  to  apprehend  how 
a  person  should  have  a  right  to  a  thing,  and  yet  have 
no  right  to  use  the  means  necessary  to  obtain  it. 
This  difficulty,  like  most  others  in  morality,  is  re- 
solvable into  the  necessity  of  general  rules.  The 
reader  recollects,  that  a  person  is  said  to  have  a 
*'  right"  to  a  thing,  when  it  is  "  consistent  with  the 
will  of  God"  that  he  should  possess  it.  So  that  the 
question  is  reduced  to  this  ;  how  it  comes  to  pass, 
that  it  should  be  consistent  with  the  will  of  God, 
that  a  person  should  possess  a  thing,  and  yet  not  be 
consistent  with  the  same  wiil  that  he  should  use 
force  to  obtain  it  ?  The  answer  is,  that  by  reason  of 
the  indeterminateness,  either  of  the  object,  or  of  the- 
circumstances  of  the  right,  the  permission  of  force 
in  this  case  would,  in  its  consequence,  lead  to  the 
permission  of  force  in  other  cases,  where  there  exist- 
ed no  right  at  all.  The  candidate  above  described 
ha?,  no  doubt,  a  right  to  success  ;  but  his  right  de- 
pends upon  his  qualifications,  for  instance,  upon  his 
comparative  virtue,  learning,  &c.  there  must  be 
somebody  therefore  to  compare  them.  The  exist- 
ence, degree,  and  respective  importance  of  these 
qualifications,  are  all  indeterminate;  there  must  be 
somebody  therefore  to  determine  them.  To  allow 
the  candidate  to  demand  success  by  force,  is  to  make 


The  Division  of  Rights.  t9 

him  tlie  judge  of  his  own  quahfications.  You  can- 
not do  this,  but  you  must  make  all  other  candidates 
the  same ;  which  would  open  a  door  to  demands 
without  number,  reason,  or  right.  In  like  manner, 
a  poor  man  has  a  right  to  relief  from  the  rich  ;  but 
the  mode,  .season,  and  quantum  of  that  rehef,  who 
shall  contribute  to  it,  or  how  much,  are  not  ascer- 
tained. Yet  these  points  must  be  ascertained,  before 
a  claim  to  relief  can  be  prosecuted  by  force.  For 
to  allow  the  poor  to  ascertain  them  for  themselves, 
would  be  to  expose  property  to  so  many  of  these 
claims,  that  it  would  lose  its  value,  or  cease  indeed 
to  be  property.  The  same  observation  holds  of  all 
other  cases  of  imperfect  rights ;  not  to  mention, 
that  in  the  instances  of  gratitude,  affection,  rever- 
ence, and  the  like,  force  is  excluded  by  the  very 
idea  of  the  duty,  which  must  be  voluntary,  or  not 
at  all. 

Wherever  the  right  is  imperfect,  the  correspond- 
ing obligation  is  so  too.  I  am  obliged  to  prefer  the 
best  candidate,  to  relieve  the  poor,  be  grateful  to 
my  benefactors,  take  care  of  my  children,  and  rev- 
erence my  parents ;  but  in  all  these  cases,  my  obliga- 
tion, like  their  right,  is  imperfect. 

I  call  these  obligations  "  imperfect,**  in  conform- 
ity to  the  established  language  of  writers  upon  the 
subject.  The  term,  however,  seems  ill  chosen  on 
th.is  account,  that  it  leads  many  to  imagine,  that 
there  is  less  guilt  in  the  violation  of  an  imperfect 
obligation,  than  of  a  perfect  one  ;  which  is  a  ground- 
less notion.  For  an  obligation  being  perfect  or  im- 
perfect, determines  only  whether  violence  may  or 
may  not  be  employed  to  enforce  it  ;  and  determines 
nothing  else.  The  degree  of  guilt  incurred  by  vio- 
lating the  obligation  is  a  different  thing.  It  is  de- 
termined by  circumstances  altogether  independent 
of  this  distinction.  A  man,  who  by  a  partial,  preju- 
diced, or  corrupt  vote,  disappoints  a  worthy  candi- 
date of  a  station  in  life,   upon  which  his  hopes,  pos- 


so  The  General  Rights  of  Matikind. 

sibly,  ©r  livelihood  depends,  and  who  thereby  griev- 
ously discourages  merit  and  emulation  in  others, 
commits,  I  am  persuaded,  a  much  greater  crime, 
than  if  he  filched  a  book  out  of  a  library,  or  picked 
a  pocket  of  a  handkerchief;  though,  in  the  one  case, 
he  violates  only  an  imperfect  right,  in  the  other,  a 
perfect,  one. 

As  positive  precepts  are  often  indeterminate  in  their 
extent,  and  as  the  indeterminateness  of  an  obligation 
is  that  which  makes  it  imperfect ;  it  comes  to  pass, 
that  positive  precepts  commonly  produce  an  imper- 
fect obligation. 

Negative  precepts  or  prohibitions,  being  generally 
precise,  constitute  accordingly  a  perfect  obligation. 

The  fifth  commandment  is  positive,  and  the  duty 
which  results  from  it  is  imperfect. 

The  sixth  commandment  is  negative,  and  imposes 
a  perfect  obligation. 

ReJigion  and  virtue  find  their  principal  exercise 
amongst  the  imperfect  obligations ;  the  laws  of  civil 
society  taking  pretty  good  care  of  the  rest. 


CHAPTER  XI. 
THE  GENERAL  RIGHTS  OF  MANKIND. 

JjY  the  General  Rights  of  Mankind,  I  mean 
the  rights,  which  belong  to  the  species  collectively  • 
the  original  stock,  as  I  may  say,  which  they  have  since 
distributed  among  themselves. 

These  are, 

I.  A  right  to  the  fruits  or  vegetable  produce  of 
the  earth. 

The  insensible  parts  of  the  creation  are  incapable 
of  injury ;  and  it  is  nugatory  to  inquire  into  the 
right,  where  the  use  can  be  attended  with  no  injury. 


The  General  Rights  of  Mankind.  81 

But  it  may  be  worth  observing,  for  the  sake  of  an  in- 
ference which  will  appear  below,  that,  as  God  has 
created  us  with  a  want  and  desire  of  food,  and  pro- 
vided things  suited  by  their  nature  to  sustain  and  sat- 
isfy us,  we  may  fairly  presume,  that  he  intended  we 
should  apply  these  things  to  that  purpose. 

II.     A  right  to  the  flesh  of  animals. 

This  is  a  very  different  claim  from  the  former. 
Some  excuse  seems  necessary  for  the  pain  and  loss 
which  we  occasion  to  brutes,  by  restraining  them  of 
their  liberty,  mutilating  their  bodies,  and,  at  last,  put- 
ting an  end  to  their  lives,  which  we  suppose  to  be  the 
whole  of  their  existence,  for  our  pleasure  or  conve- 
niency. 

The  reasons  alleged  in  vindication  of  this  practice, 
are  the  following  :  that  the  several  species  of  brutes 
being  created  to  prey  upon  one  another,  affords  a 
kind  of  analogy  to  prove  that  the  human  species  were 
intended  to  feed  upon  them  ;  that,  if  let  alone,  they 
would  over-run  the  earth,  and  exclude  mankind  from 
the  occupation  of  it  ;  that  they  are  requited  for  what 
they  syffer  at  our  hands,  by  our  care  and  protection. 

Upon  which  reasons  I  would  observe,  that  the  an- 
alogy  contended  for  is  extremely  lame ;  since  brutes 
have  no  power  to  support  life  by  any  other  means, 
and  since  we  have ;  for  the  whole  human  species 
might  subsist  entirely  upon  fruit,  pulse,  herbs,  and 
roots,  as  many  tribes  of  Hindoos  actually  do.  The 
two  other  reasons  may  be  valid  reasons,  as  far  as 
they  go  ;  for,  no  doubt,  if  man  had  been  supported 
entirely  by  vegetable  food,  a  great  part  of  those  ani- 
mals which  die  to  furnish  his  table,  would  never  have 
lived  ;  but  they  by  no  means  justify  our  right  over 
the  lives  of  brutes  to  the  extent  in  which  we  exercise 
it.  What  danger  is  there,  for  instance,  of  fish  inter- 
fering with  us,  in  the  occupation  of  their  element  ? 
Or  what  do  we  contribute  to  their  support  or  pres- 
ervation ? 


82  The  General  Rights  of  Mankind. 

It  seems  to  me  that  it  would  be^  difficult  to  defend 
this  right,  by  any  argument  which  the  light  and  or- 
der of  nature  afford  ;  and  that  we  are  beholden  for 
it,  to  the  permission  recorded  in  scripture,  Gen.  ix. 
1,2,  3  :  "  And  God  blessed  Noah  and  his  sonn,  and 
said  unto  them.  Be  fruitful,  and  multiply,  and  replen- 
ish the  earth  ;  and  the  fear  of  you,  and  the  dread  of 
you,  shall  be  upon  every  beast  of  the  earth,  and  upon 
every  fowl  of  the  air,  and  upon  all  that  moveth  upon 
the  earth,  and  upon  all  the  fishes  of  the  sea  ;  into 
your  hand  are  they  deHvered  :  every  moving  thing 
shall  be  meat  for  you  ;  even  as  the  green  herb,  have 
I  given  you  all  things."  To  Adam  and  his  posterity 
had  been  granted  at  the  creation  "  every  green  herb 
for  meat,"  and  nothing  more.  In  the  last  clause  of 
the  passage  now  produced,  the  old  grant  is  recited, 
and  extended  to  the  flesh  of  animals,  "  even  as  the 
green  herb,  have  I  given  you  all  things."  But  this 
was  not  till  after  the  flood  ;  the  inhabitants  of  the 
antediluvian  world  therefore,  had  no  such  permission 
that  we  know  of.  Whether  they  actually  refrained 
from  the  flesh  of  animals,  is  another  question.  Abel, 
we  read,  was  a  keeper  of  sheep  ;  and  for  what  pur- 
pose he  kept  them,  except  for  food,  is  difficult  to  say, 
(unless  it  were  sacrifices :)  might  not,  however,  some 
of  the  stricter  sects  among  the  antediluvians  be  scru- 
pulous as  to  this  point  ?  and  might  not  Noah  and 
his  family  be  of  this  description  ?  for  it  is  not  proba- 
ble that  God  would  publish  a  permission,  to  author- 
ize a  practice  which  had  never  been  disputed. 

Wanton,  and,  what  is  worse,  studied  cruelty  to 
bilites,  is  certainly  wrong,  as  coming  within  none  of 
these  reasons. 


From  reason  then,  or  revelation,  or  from  both  to- 
gether, it  appears  to  be  God  Almighty's  intention, 
that  the  productions  of  the  earth' should  be  applied 
to  the  sustentation  of  human  life.  Consequently,  all 
waste   and   misapplication    of  these  productions,  i^ 


The  General  Rights  of  Ma  nkind,  8  3 

contrary  to  the  divine  intention  and  will,  and  there- 
fore wrong,  for  the   same    reason  that    any    other 
crime  is  so.     Such  as,  what   is   related  of  WiUiam 
the    Conqueror,  the  converting  of  twenty  manors 
into  a    forest  for  hunting  ;  or,  which  is  not  much 
better,  suffering  them  to  continue  in  that  state  ;  or 
the  letting  of  large  tracts  of  land  lie  barren,  because 
the  owner  cannot  cultivate  them,  nor  will  part  with 
them  to  those  who  can  ;  or  destroying,  or  suffering 
to  perish,  great  part  of  an  article  of  human  provis- 
ion, in  order  to  enhance  the  price  of  the  remainder, 
which  is  said  to    have  been,  till  lately,  the  case  with 
fish  caught  upon  the  English  coast  ;  or  diminishing 
the  breed  of  animals,  by  a  wanton,  or  improvident 
consumption  of  the  young,  as  of  the  spawn  of  shell- 
fish, or  the   fry  of  salmon,  by  the  use  of  unlawful 
nets,  or  at   improper  seasons  :  to  this  head  may  also 
be  referred,  what  is  the  same  evil  in  a  smaller  way, 
the  expending  of  human  food  on  superfluous  dogs 
or  horses  ;  and   lastly,  the  reducing  of  the  quantity 
in  order  to  alter  the   quality,  and  to  alter  it  general- 
ly for  the   worse  ;  as  the  distillation   of  spirits  from 
bread-corn,  the  boiling  down  of  solid  meat  for  sau- 
ces, essences,  ,&c. 

This  seems  to  be  the  lesson  which  our  Saviour, 
after  his  manner,  inculcates,  when  he  bids  his  disci- 
ples "  gather  up  the  fragments,  that  nothing  be  lost." 
And  it  opens,  indeed,  a  new  field  of  duty.  Schemes 
of  wealth  or  profit,  prompt  the  active  part  of  man= 
kind  to  cast  about  how  they  may  convert  their  prop- 
erty to  the  most  advantage  :  and  their  own  advan- 
tage, and  that  of  the  public,  commonly  concur.  But 
it  has  not  as  yet  entered  into  the  minds  of  man- 
kind, to  reflect  that  it  is  a  duty,  to  add  what  we  can 
to  the  common  stock  of  provision,  by  extracting 
out  of  our  estates  the  most  they  will  yield  ;  or  that 
it  is  any  sin  to  neglect  this. 

From  the  same  intention  of  God  Almighty,  we 
also  deduce  another  conclusion,  namely,  "that  noth- 


84  The  General  Rights  of  Mankind. 

ing  ought  to  be  made  exclusive  property,  which  can 
be  conveniently  enjoyed  in  common." 

It  is  the  general  intention  of  God  Almighty,  that 
the  produce  of  the  earth  be  applied  to  the  use  of 
man.  This  appears  from  the  constitution  of  nature, 
or,  if  you  will,  from  his  express  declaration  ;  and 
this  is  all  that  appears  hitherto.  Under  this  general 
donation,  one  man  has  the  same  right  as  another. 
Ycu  pluck  an  apple  from  a  tree,  or  take  a  lamb  out 
of  a  flock,  for  your  immediate  use  and  nourishment, 
and  I  do  the  same  ;  and  we  both  plead  for  what  we 
do,  the  general  intention  of  the  Supreme  Proprietor, 
So  far  all  is  right  ;  but  you  cannot  claim  the  whole 
tree,  or  the  whole  flock,  and  exclude  me  from  any 
share  of  them,  and  plead  this  general  intention  for 
what  you  do.  The  plea  will  not  serve  you  :  you 
Hiust  shew  something  more.  You  must  shew,  by 
probable  arguments,  at  least,  that  it  is  God's  inten- 
tion that  these  things  should  be  parcelled  out  to  in- 
dividuals ;  and  that  the  established  distribution,  under 
which  ycu  claim,  should  be  upheld.  Shew  me  this, 
and  I  am  satisfied.  But  until  this  be  shewn,  the 
general  intention,  which  has  been  made  appear,  and 
which  is  all  that  does  appear,  must  prevail  ;  and  un- 
der that,  my  title  is  as  good  as  yours.  Now  there  is 
no  argument  to  induce  such  a  presumption  but  one, 
that  the  thing  cannot  be  enjoyed  at  all,  or  enjoyed 
with  the  same,  or  with  nearly  the  same  advantage, 
while  it  continues  in  common,  as  when  appropri- 
ated. This  is  true,  where  there  is  not  enough  for 
ail,  or  where  the  article  in  question  requires  care  or 
labour  in  the  production  or  preservation  :  but  where 
no  such  reason  obtains,  and  the  thing  is  in  its  nature 
capable  of  being  enjoyed  by  as  many  as  will,  it  seems 
an  arbitrary  usurpation  upon  the  rights  of  mankind, 
to  confine  the  use  of  it  to  any. 

If  a  medicinal  spring  were  discovered  in  a  piece  of 
ground  which  was  private  property,  copious  enough 
for  every  purpose  which  it  could  be  applied  to^  I 


The  General  Rights  of  Mankind.  So 

would  award  a  compensation  to  the  owner  of  the 
field;  and  a  liberal  profit  to  the  author  of  the  discove- 
ry, especially,  if  he  had  bestowed  pains  or  expense 
upon  the  search  ;  but  I  question,  whether  any  hu- 
man laws  would  be  justified,  or  would  justify  the 
owner,  in  prohibiting  mankind  from  the  use  of  the 
water,  or  setting  such  a  price  upon  it,  as  would  al- 
most amount  to  a  prohibition. 

If  there  be  fisheries,  which  are  inexhaustible ;  as 
the  cod-fishery  upon  the  Banks  of  Newfoundland, 
and  the  herring-fishery  on  the  British  seas  are  said 
to  be  ;  then  all  those  conventions,  by  which  one  or 
two  nations  claim  to  themselves,  and  guaranty  to 
each  other,  the  exclusive  enjoyment  of  these  fisher- 
ies, are  so  many  encroachments  upon  the  general 
rights  of  mankind. 

Upon  the  same  principle  my  be  determined  a 
question,  which  makes  a  great  figure  in  books  of 
natural  \z\Y^utrum  mare  sit  liberwn  ?  that  is,  as  I  un- 
derstand it,  whether  the  exclusive  right  of  navigating 
particular  seas,  or  a  control  over  the  navigation  of 
these  seas  can  be  claimed,  consistently  with  the  law 
of  nature,  by  any  nation  ?  What  is  necessary  for  each 
nation's  safety  we  allow  ;  as  their  own  bays,  creeks, 
and  harbours,  the  sea  contigious  to,  that  is,  within 
cannon  shot,  or  three  leagues  of  their  coast :  and  upon 
this  principle  of  safety  (if  upon  any  principle)  must 
be  defended,  the  claim  of  the  Venetian  state  to  the 
Adriatic,  of  Denmark  to  the  Baltic  sea,  and  of  Great 
Britain  to  the  seas  which  invest  the  island.  But, 
when  Spain  asserts  a  right  to  the  Pacific  ocean,  or 
Portugal  to  the  Indian  seas,  or  when  any  nation  ex- 
tends its  pretensions  much  beyond  the  limits  of  its 
own  territories,  they  erect  a  claim,  which  interferes 
with  the  benevolent  designs  of  Providence,  and 
which  no  human  authority  can  justify. 

III.  Another  right,  which  may  be  called  a  gener- 
al right,   as  it  is  incidental  to  every  man  who  is  m  a 


8^'  The  General  Rights  of  Mankind. 

situation  to  claim  it,  is  the  right  of  extreme  necessi- 
ty :  by  which  is  meant,  a  right  to  use  or  destroy 
another's  property,  when  it  is  necessary  for  our  own 
preservation  to  do  so  ;  as  a  right  to  take  without  or 
against  the  owner's  leave,  the  first  food,  clothes,  or 
shelter  we  meet  with,  when  we  are  in  danger  of 
perishing  through  want  of  them  ;  a  right  to  throw 
goods  overboard,  to  save  the  ship  ;  or  to  pull  down 
a  house,  in  order  to  stop  the  progress  of  a  fire  ;  and  a 
few  other  instances  of  the  same  kind.  Of  which 
right  the  foundation  seems  to  be  this,  that,  when 
property  was  first  instituted,  the  institution  was  not 
intended  to  operate  to  the  destruction  of  any  :  there- 
fore when  such  consequences  would  follow,  all  regard 
to  it  is  superseded.  Or  rather,  perhaps,  these  are  the 
few  cases,  where  the  particular  consequence  exceeds 
the  general  consequence ;  where  the  remote  mischief 
resulting  from  the  violation  of  the  general  rule,  is 
overbalanced  by  the  immediate  advantage. 

Restitution  however  is  due,  when  in  our  power  ; 
because  the  laws  of  property  are  to  be  adhered  to,  so 
far  as  consists  with  safety  ;  and  because  restitution, 
which  is  one  of  those  laws,  supposes  the  danger  to  be 
over.  But  what  is  to  be  restored  ?  not  the  full  value 
of  property  destroyed,  but  what  it  was  worth  at 
the  time  of  destroying  it  ;  which,  considering  the 
danger  it  was  in  of  perishing,  might  be  very  little. 


BOOK   III. 

Relative  Duties, 


PART  I. 

OF   RELATIVE   DUTIES   WHICH  ARE   DE- 
TERMINATE. 


CHAPTER  I. 
OF  PROPERTY. 

If  you  should  see  a  flock  of  pigeons  in  a  field 
of  corn  ;  and  if  (instead  of  each  picking  where,  and 
what  it  liked,  taking  just  as  much  as  it  wanted  and 
no  more)  you  should  see  ninety-nine  of  them 
gathering  all  they  got  into  a  heap ;  reserving  noth- 
ing to  themselves,  but  the  chaff  and  refuse  ;  keeping 
this  heap  for  one,  and  that  the  weakest  perhaps  and 
worst  pigeon  of  the  flock ;  sitting  round,  and  look- 
ing on  all  the  winter,  whilst  this  one  was  devouring, 
throwing  about  and  wasting  it ;  and,  if  a  pigeon 
more  hardy  or  hungry  than  the  rest,  touched  a  grain, 
of  the  hoard,  all  the  others  instantly  flying  upon  it, 
and  tearing  h  to  pieces  :  if  you  should  see  this,  you 
would  see  nothing  more,  than  what  is  every  day 
practised  and  established  among  men.  Among  men 
you  see  the  ninety  and  nine,  toihng  and  scraping  to- 
gether  a  heap  of  superfluities  for  one ;  getting  noth- 
ing for  themselves  all  the  while,  but  a  little  of  the 
coarsest  of  the  provision,  which  their  own  labour 
produces  j  and  this  one  too,  oftentimes  the  feeblest 

M 


88  The  Use  of  the 

and  worst  of  the  whole  set,  a  child,  a  woman,  a  mad- 
man or  a  fool ;  looking  quietly  on,  while  they  see 
the  fruits  of  all  their  labour  spent  or  spoiled  ;  and  if 
one  of  them  take  or  touch  a  particle  of  it,  the  others 
join  against  him,  and  hang  him  for  the  theft. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  USE  OF  THE  INSTITUTION  OF  PROP- 
ERTY. 

1  HERE  must  be  some  very  important  advan- 
tages to  account  for  an  institution,  which  in  one 
view  of  it  is  so  paradoxical  and  unnatural. 

The  principle  of  these  advantages  are  the  follow- 
ing: 

I.     It  increases  the  produce  of  the  earth. 

The  earth,  in  climates  like  ours,  produces  little 
without  cultivation ;  and  none  would  be  found 
willing  to  cultivate  the  ground  if  others  were  to  be 
admitted  to  an  equal  share  of  the  produce.  The 
same  is  true  of  the  care  of  flocks  and  herds  of  tame 
animals. 

Crabs  and  acorns,  red  deer,  rabits,  game,  and  fish, 
are  all  we  should  have  to  subsist  upon  in  this  country, 
if  we  trusted  to  the  spontaneous  productions  of  the 
soil :  and  it  fares  not  much  better  with  other  coun- 
tries. A  nation  of  North  American  savages,  consist- 
ing of  two  or  three  hundred,  will  take  up,  and  be 
half  starved  upon  a  tract  of  land,  which  in  Europe, 
and  with  European  management,  would  be  sufficient 
for  the  maintenance  of  as  many  thousands. 

In  some  fertile  soils,  together  with  great  abundance 
of  fish  upon  their  coasts,  and  in  regions  where 
clothes  are  unnecessary,  a  considerable  degree  of 
population  may  subsist  without  property  in  land  ; 
which  is  the  case  at  Otaheite  :^but  in  less  favoured 
situations,  as  in  the  country  of  New-Zealand,  though 


Institution  of  Property,  89 

this  sort  of  property  obtain  in  a  small  degree,  the 
inhabitants,  for  want  of  a  more  secure  and  regular 
establishment  of  it,  are  driven  ofttimes  by  the  scarcity 
of  provisions  to  devour  one  another. 

II.  It  preserves  the  produce  of  the  earth  to  matu- 
rity. 

We  may  judge  what  would  be  the  effects  of  a 
community  of  right  to  the  productions  of  the  earth, 
from  the  trifling  specimens,  which  we  see  of  it  at 
present.  A  cherry-tree  in  a  hedge-row,  nuts  in  a 
wood,  the  grass  of  an  unstinted  pasture,  are  seldom 
of  much  advantage  to  any  body,  because  people  do 
not  wait  for  the  proper  season  of  reaping  them. 
Corn,  if  any  were  sown,  would  never  ripen ;  lambs 
?nd  calves  would  never  grow  up  to  sheep  and  cows, 
because  the  first  person  that  met  them  would  reflect, 
that  he  had  better  take  them  as  they  are,  than  leave 
them  for  another. 

III.  It  prevents  contests. 

War  and  waste,  tumult  and  confusion,  must  be 
unavoidable  and  eternal,  where  there  is  not  enough 
for  all,  and  where  there  are  no  rules  to  adjust  the 
division. 

IV.  It  improves  the  conveniency  of  living. 

This  it  does  two  ways.  It  enables  mankind  to 
divide  themselves  into  distinct  professions  ;  which  is 
impossible,  unless  a  man  can  exchange  the  produc- 
tions of  his  own  art  for  wh?t  he  wants  from  others  ; 
and  exchange  implies  property.  Much  of  the  ad- 
vantages of  civilized  oyer  savage  life  depends  upon 
this.  When  a  man  is  from  necessity  his  own  tailor, 
tentmaker,  carpenter,  cook,  huntsman,  and  fisher- 
man, it  is  not  probable  that  he  will  be  expert  at  any 
of  his  callings.  Hence,  the  rude  habitations,  furni- 
ture, clothing,  and  implements  of  savages ;  and  the 
tedious  length  of  time  which  all  their  operations 
require. 

It  likewise  encourages  those  arts,  by  which  the 
accommodations-  of  human  life  are  supplied,  by  ap= 


90  The  History  of  Property. 

propriating  to  the  artist  the  benefit  of  his  discoveries 
and  improvements ;  without  which  appropriation, 
ingenuity  will  never  be  exerted  with  effect. 

Upon  these  several  accounts  we  may  venture 
with  a  few  exceptions,  to  pronounce,  that  even  the 
poorest  and  the  worst  provided,  in  countries  where 
property  and  the  consequences  of  property  prevail, 
are  in  a  better  situation,  with  respect  to  food,  rai- 
ment, houses,  and  what  are  called  the  necessaries  of 
life,  than  any  are,  in  places  where  most  things  re- 
main in  common. 

The  balance,  therefore,  upon  the  whole,  must 
preponderate  in  favour  of  property  with  manifest 
and  great  excess. 

Inequality  of  property  in  the  degree  in  which  it  ex- 
ists in  most  countries  in  Europe,  abstractedly  <:onsider- 
ed,  is  an  evil:  but  it  is  an  evil,  which  flows  from  those 
rules  concerning  the  acquisition  and  disposal  of  prop- 
erty, by  which  men  are  incited  to  industry,  and  by 
which  the  object  of  their  industry  is  rendered  secure 
and  valuable.  If  there  be  any  great  inequality  un- 
connected with  this  origin,  it  ought  to  be  corrected. 


CHAPTER  III. 
THE  HISTORY  OF  PROPERTY. 

1  HE  first  objects  of  property  were  the  fruits 
which  a  man  gathered,  and  the  wild  animals  he 
caught ;  next  to  these,  the  tents  or  houses  which 
he  built,  the  tools  he  made  use  of  to  catch  and  pre- 
pare his  food ;  and  afterwards  weapons  of  war  and 
offence.  Many  of  the  savage  tribes  in  North  Amer- 
ica have  advanced  no  farther  than  this  yet ;  for  they 
are  said  to  reap  their  harvest,  and  return  the  pro- 
duce of  their  market  with  foreigners  into  the  com- 
mon hoard  or  treasury  of  the  tribe.  Flocks  and 
herds  of  tame  animals  soon  became  property  j  Abel^ 


The  History  of  Property.  9 1 

the  second  from  Jlda?n^  was  a  keeper  of  sheep  ;  sheep 
and  oxen,  camels  and  asses,  composed  the  wealth 
of  the  Jewish  patriarchs,  as  they  do  still  of  the  mod- 
ern Arabu  As  the  world  was  first  peopled  in  the 
East,  where  there  existed  a  great  scarcity  of  water, 
wells  probably  were  next  made  property ;  as  we 
learn,  from  the  frequent  and  serious  mention  of 
them  in  the  Old  Testament,  the  contentions  and  trea- 
ties about  them,*  and  from  its  being  recorded, 
among  the  most  memorable  achievements  of  very 
eminent  men,  that  they  dug  or  discovered  a  well. 
Land,  which  is  now  so  important  a  part  of  property, 
which  alone  our  laws  call  real  property,  and  regard 
upon  all  occasions  with  such  pecuhar  attention,  was 
probably  not  made  property  in  any  country,  till 
long  after  the  institution  of  many  other  species  of 
property,  that  is,  till  the  country  became  populous, 
and  tillage  began  to  be  thought  of.  The  first  parti- 
tion of  an  estate  which  we  read  of,  was  that  which 
took  place  between  Abram  and  Lot ;  and  was  one  of 
the  simplest  imaginable  :  "  If  thou  wilt  take  the  left 
hand,  then  I  will  go  to  the  right;  or  if  thou  depart 
to  the  right  hand,  then  I  will  go  to  the  left.'*  There 
are  no  traces  of  property  in  land  in  C(zsar*s  account 
of  Britain ;  little  of  it  in  the  history  of  the  Jewish 
patriarchs ;  none  of  it  found  amongst  the  nations  of 
North  America  ;  the  Scythians  are  expressly  said  to 
have  appropriated  their  cattle  and  houses,  but  to 
have  left  their  land  in  common.  Property  in  im- 
moveables continued  at  first  no  longer  than  the  oc- 
cupation ;  that  is,  so  long  as  a  man's  family  contin- 
ued in  possession  of  a  cave,  or  his  flock  depastured 
upon  a  neighbouring  hill,  no  one  attempted,  or 
thought  he  had  a  right,  to  disturb  or  drive  them 
out:  but  when  the  man  quitted  his  cave,  or  chan^j^- 
ed  his  pasture,  the  first  who  found  them  unoccupied, 
entered  upon  them,  by  the  same  title  as  his  predeces- 
sor's J  and  made  way  in  his  turn,  for  any  one  that 

*  Gen.  xxi.  25,  xxvi.  18. 


9^  Property  in  Land. 

happened  to  succeed  him.  All  more  permanent 
property  in  land,  was  probably  posterior  to  civil 
government  and  to  laws ;  and  therefore  settled  by 
these,  or  according  to  the  will  of  the  reigning  chief. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

IN  WHAT  TPIE    RIGHT  OF  PROPERTY   IS 
FOUNDED. 

\^E  now  speak  of  Property  in  Land  :  and  there 
is  a  difficulty  in  explaining  the  origin  of  this  proper- 
ty, consistently  with  the  law  of  nature  ;  for  the  land 
was  once  no  doubt  common,  and  the  question  is, 
how  any  particular  part  of  it  could  justly  be  taken 
out  of  the  common,  and  so  appropriated  to  the  first 
owner,  as  to  give  him  a  better  right  to  it  than  others  ; 
and  what  is  more,  a  right  to  exclude  all  others 
from  it. 

Moralists  have  given  many  different  accounts  of 
this  matter ;  which  diversity  alone  perhaps  is  a  proof 
that  none  of  them  are  satisfactory. 

One  tells  us  that  mankind,  when  they  suffered  a 
particular  person  to  occupy  a  piece  of  ground,  by 
tacit  consent  relinquished  their  right  to  it ;  and  as 
the  piece  of  ground  belonged  to  mankind  collective- 
ly, and  mankind  thus  gave  up  their  right  to  the  first 
peaceable  occupier,  it  thenceforward  became  his 
property,  and  no  one  afterwards  had  a  right  to  mo- 
lest him  in  it. 

The  objection  to  this  account  is,  that  consent  can 
never  be  presumed  from  silence,  where  the  person 
whose  consent  is  required  knows  nothing  about  the 
matter  ;  which  must  have  been  the  case  with  all 
mankind,  except  the  neighbourhood  of  the  place 
where  the  appropriation  was  made.  And  to  suppose 
that  the  piece  of  ground  previously  belonged  to  the 


Property  in  Land.  03 

neighbourhood,  and  that  they  had  a  just  power  of 
conferring  a  right  to  it  upon  whom  they  pleased,  is 
to  suppose  tht  question  resolved,  and  a  partition  of 
land  to  have  already  taken  place. 

Another  says,  that  each  man's  limbs  and  labour 
are  his  own  exclusively  ;  that,  by  occupying  a  piece 
of  ground,  a  man  inseparably  mixes  his  labour  with 
it,  by  which  means  the  piece  of  ground  becomes 
thenceforward  his  own,  as  you  cannot  take  it  from 
him,  without  depriving  him  at  the  same  time  of 
something  which  is  indisputably  bis. 

This  is  Mr.  Locke's  solution  ;  and  seems  indeed 
a  fair  reason,  where  the  value  of  the  labour  bears  a 
considerable  proportion  to  the  value  of  the  thing ; 
or  where  the  thing  derives  its  chief  use  and  value 
from  the  labour.  Thus,  game  and  fish,  though  they 
be  common,  whilst  at  large  in  the  woods  or  water, 
instantly  become  the  property  of  the  person  who 
catches  them  ;  because  an  animal,  when  caught,  is 
much  more  valuable  than  when  at  liberty ;  and  this 
increase  of  value,  which  is  inseparable  from  and 
makes  a  great  part  of  the  whole  value,  is  strictly 
the  property  of  the  fowler,  or  fisherman,  being  the 
produce  of  his  personal  labour.  For  the  same  rea- 
son, wood  or  iron,  manufactured  into"  utensils,  be- 
come the  property  of  the  manufacturer  ;  because 
the  value  of  the  workmanship  far  exceeds  that  of 
the  materials.  And  upon  a  similar  principle,  a  par- 
cel of  unappropriated  ground,  which  a  man  should 
pare,  burn,  plough,  harrow,  and  sow,  for  the  pro- 
duction of  corn,  vi'ould  justly  enough  be  thereby 
made  his  own.  But  this  will  hardly  hold,  in  the 
manner  it  has  been  applied,  of  taking  a  ceremonious 
possession  of  a  tract  of  land,  as  navigators  do  of  new 
X  discovered  islands,  by  erecting  a  standard,  engraving 
an  inscription,  or  publishing  a  proclamation  to  the 
birds  and  beasts ;  or  of  turning  your  cattle  into  a 
piece  of  ground,  setting  up  a  land  mark,  digging  a 
ditch,  or  planting  a  hedge  round  it.     Nor  will  even 


^4*  Property  hi  Land, 

the  clearing,  manuring,  and  ploughing  of  a  field, 
give  the  first  occupier  a  right  in  perpetuity  after  this 
cultivation  and  all  the  effects  of  it  are  ceased. 

Another,  and  in  my  opinion,  a  better  account  of 
the  first  right  of  owner-ship,  is  the  follovi^ing :  that, 
as  God  has  provided  these  things  for  the  use  of  all, 
he  has  of  consequence  given  each  leave  to  take  of 
them  what  he  wants  ;  by  virtue  therefore  of  this 
leave,  a  man  may  appropriate  what  he  stands  in  need 
of  to  his  own  use,  without  asking  or  waiting  for  the 
consent  of  others ;  in  like  manner,  as  when  an  en- 
tertainment is  provided  for  the  freeholders  of  a  coun- 
ty, each  freeholder  goes,  and  eats  and  drinks  what 
he  w^ants  or  chooses,  without  having  or  waiting  for 
the  consent  of  the  other  guests. 

But  then,  this  reason  justifies  property,  as  far  as 
necessaries  alone,  or,  at  the  most,  as  far  as  a  compe- 
tent provision  for  our  natural  exigences.  For,  in 
the  entei'tainment  we  speak  of  (allowing  the  com- 
parison to  hold  in  all  points)  although  every  par- 
ticular freeholder  may  sit  down  and  eat  till  he  be 
satisfied,  without  any  other  leave  than  that  of  the 
master  of  the  feast,  or  any  other  proof  of  that  leave, 
than  the  general  invitation,  or  the  manifest  design 
with  which  the  entertainment  is  provided  ;  yet  you 
vjould  hardly  permit  any  on  to  fill  his  pockets,  or 
his  wallet,  or  to  carry  away  with  him  a  quantity  of 
provision  to  be  hoarded  up,  or  wasted,  or  given  to 
his  dogs,  or  stewed  down  into  sauces,  or  converted 
into  articles  of  superfluous  luxury  ;  especially  if  by  so 
doing,  he  pinched  the  guests  at  the  lower  end  of  the 
table. 

These  are  the  accounts  that  have  been  given  of  the 
matter  by  the  best  writers  upon  the  subject ;  but, 
were  these  accounts  perfectly  unexceptionable,  they 
would  none  of  them,  I  fear,  avail  us  in  vindicating 
our  present  claims  of  property  in  land,  unless  it  were 
more  probable  than  it  is,  that  our  estates  were  actu- 
ally acquired  at  first,  in  some   of  the  ways  which 


Property  in  Land.  9^ 

these  accounts  suppose ;  and  that  a  regular  regard 
had  been  pai'd  to  justice  in  every  successive  transmis- 
sion of  them  since  :  for  if  one  Hnk  in  the  chain  fail, 
every  title  posterior  to  it  falls  to  the  ground. 

The  real  foundation  of  our  right  is,  the  law  of 

THE  LAND. 

It  is  the  intention  of  God,  that  the  produce  of  the 
earth  be  applied  to  the  use  of  man ;  this  intention 
cannot  be  fulfilled  without  establishing  property  ;  it 
is  consistent  therefore  with  his  will,  that  property 
be  established.  The  land  cannot  be  divided  into 
separate  property,  without  leaving  it  to  the  law  of 
the  country  to  regulate  that  division  ;  it  is  consistent 
therefore  with  the  same  will,  that  the  law  should  reg- 
ulate the  division ;  and  consequently,  "  consistent 
with  the  will  of  God,'*  or,  «'  right,"  that  I  should 
possess  that  share  which  these  regulations  assign  me. 

By  whatever  circuitous  train  of  reasoning  you  at- 
tempt to  derive  this  right,  it  must  terminate  at  last 
in  the  will  of  God  ;  the  straitest,  therefore,  and 
shortest  way  of  arriving  at  this  will,  is  the  best. 

Hence  it  appears,  that  my  right  to  an  estate  does 
not  at  all  depend  upon  the  manner  or  justice  of  the 
original  acquisition  ;  nor  upon  the  justice  of  each 
subsequent  change  of  possession.  It  is  not,  for  in- 
stance, the  less,  nor  ought  it  to  be  impeached,  be- 
cause the  estate  was  taken  possession  of  at  first  by  a 
family  of  aboriginal  Britons,  who  happened  to  be 
stronger  than  their  neighbours  ;  nor  because  the 
British  possessor  was  turned  out  by  a  Roman,  or  the 
Roman  by  a  Saxon  invader ;  nor  because  it  was  seiz- 
ed, without  colour  of  right  or  reason,  by  a  follower 
of  the  Norman  adventurer ;  from  whom,  after  ma- 
ny interruptions  of  fraud  and  violence,  it  has  at 
length  devolved  to  me. 

Nor  does  the  owner's  right  depend  upon  the  eX' 
pedieiicy  of  the  law  which  gives  it  to  him.  On  one 
side  of  a  brook,  an  estate  descends  to  the  eldest  son  ; 
on  the  other  side,  to  all  the  children  alike.     The 


96  Property  in  Land. 

right  of  the  claimants  under  both  laws  of  Inheritance 
is  equal  ;  though  the  expediency  of  such  opposite 
rules  must  necessarily  be  different. 

The  principles  we  have  laid  down  upon  this  sub- 
ject apparently  tend  to  a  conclusion  of  which  a  bad 
use  is  apt  to  be  made.  As  the  right  of  property  de- 
pends upon  the  law  of  the  land,  it  seems  to  follow, 
that  a  man  has  a  right  to  keep  and  take  every  thing, 
W'hich  the  law  will  allow  him  to  keep  and  take  ; 
which  in  many  cases  will  authorize  the  mott  flagi- 
tious chicanery.  If  a  creditor  upon  a  simple  contract 
neglect  to  demand  his  debt  for  six  years,  the  debtor 
may  refuse  to  pay  it :  would  it  be  rigbt  therefore  to 
do  so,  where  he  Is  conscious  of  the  justice  of  the  debt  ? 
If  a  person,  who  is  under  twenty-one  years  of  age, 
contrr.cr  a  bargain  (other  than  for  necessaries)  he  may 
avoid  it  by  pleading  his  minority :  but  would  this 
be  a  fair  plea,  where  the  bargain  was  originally  just  ? 
The  distinction  to  be  taken  in  such  cases  is  this  : 
With  the  law,  we  acknowledge,  resides  the  disposal 
of  property  ;  so  long  therefore  as  we  keep  within 
the  design  and  intention  of  the  law,  that  law  will 
jU'-rify  us,  as  well  inforo  conscienticz,  as  in  foro  humano, 
whatever  be  the  equity  or  expediency  of  the  law  it- 
self. But  when  we  convert  to  one  purpose,  a  rule 
or  expression  of  law,  which  is  intended  for  another 
purpose  ;  then,  we  plead  in  our  justification,  not  the 
intention  of  the  law,  but  the  words  ;  that  is,  we 
plead  a  dead  letter,  which  can  signify  nothing  ;  for 
words  without  meaning  or  intention  have  no  force  or 
eiiect  injustice,  much  less  words  taken  contrary  to  the 
meaning  and  intention  of  the  speaker  or  writer.  To 
apply  this  distinction  to  the  examples  just  now  pro- 
posed :  in  order  to  protect  men  against  antiquated 
demands,  from  which  it  is  not  probable  they  should 
have  preserved  the  e.^idence  of  their  discharge,  the 
law  prescribes  a  limited  time  to  certain  species  of  pri- 
vate securities,  beyond  which,  it  will  not  enforce 
them,  or  lend  its  assistance  to  the  recovery  of  the 
debt.     If  a  man  be  ignorant,  or  dubious  of  the  jus- 


Pro?nises.  97 

dee  of  the  demand  upon  him,  he  may  conscientious- 
ly plead  this  Hmitation  ;  because  he  applies  the  rule  of 
law  to  the  purpose  for  which  it  was  intended.  But  when 
he  refuses  to  pay  a  debt,  of  the  reality  of  which  he 
is  conscious,  he  cannot,  as  before,  plead  the  inten- 
tion of  the  statute,  and  the  supreme  authority  of 
law,  unless  he  could  shew,  that  the  law  intended  to  in- 
terpose its  supreme  authority,  to  acquit  men  of  debts, 
of  the  existence  and  justice  of  which  they  were  them- 
selves sensible.  Again,  to  preserve  youth  from  the 
practices  and  impositions,  to  which  their  inexperi- 
ence exposes  them,  the  law  compels  the  payment  of 
no  debts  incurred  within  a  certain  age,  nor  the  per- 
formance of  any  engagements,  except  for  such  neces- 
saries as  are  suited  to  their  condition  and  fortunes. 
If  a  young  person  therefore  perceive  that  he  has  been 
practiced  or  imposed  upon,  he  may  honestly  avail 
himself  of  the  privilege  of  his  non-age  to  defeat  the 
circumvention.  But,  if  he  shelter  himself  under  this 
privilege,  to  avoid  a  fair  obligation,  or  an  equitable 
contract,  he  extends  the  privilege  to  a  case,  in  which 
it  is  not  allowed  by  intention  of  law,  and  in  which 
consequently  it  does  not,  in  natural  justice,  exist. 


As  property  is  the  principal  subject  of  justice,  or 
"  of  the  determinate  relative  duties,"  we  have  put 
down  what  we  had  to  say  upon  //  in  the  first  place  : 
we  now  proceed  to  state  these  duties  in  the  best  or- 
der we  can. 


CHAPTER  V. 
PROMISES. 

I.  x^ROM  whence  the  obligation  to  perform  Pro?}!- 
ises  arises. 

II.  In  what  sense  Promises  are  to  be  interpreted. 

III.  hi  what  cases  Prd?niies  are  not  binding. 


98  Promises, 

I.  From  whence  the  obligation  to  perform  Promises  arises. 

They  who  argue  from  innate  moral  principles, 
suppose  a  sense  of  the  obhgation  of  promises  to  be 
one  of  th'jm ;  but  without  assuming  this,  or  any 
thing  else,  without  proof,  the  obligation  to  perform 
promises  may  be  deduced  from  the  necessity  of  such 
a  conduct,  to  the  well-being,  or  the  existence,  indeed, 
of  human  society. 

Men  act  from  expectation  ;  expectation  is,  in  most 
cases,  determined  by  the  assurances  and  engagements 
which  we  receive  from  others.  If  no  dependence 
could  be  placed  upon  these  assurances,  it  would  be 
impossible  to  know  what  judgment  to  form  of  many 
future  events,  or  how  to  regulate  our  conduct  with 
respect  to  them.  Confidence,  therefore,  in  promises, 
is  essential  to  the  intercourse  of  human  life;  because, 
without  it,  the  greatest  part  of  our  conduct  would 
proceed  upon  chance.  But  there  could  be  no  con- 
fidence in  promise-^,  if  men  were  not  obliged  to  per- 
form them ;  the  obligation  therefore  to  perform 
promises  is  essential,  to  the  same  end,  and  in  the 
same  degree. 

Some  may  imagine,  that,  if  this  obligation  were 
suspended,  a  general  caution  and  nmtual  distrust 
would  ensue,  which  might  do  as  well ;  but  this  is 
imagined,  without  considering,  how  every  hour  of 
our  lives  we  trust  to,  and  depend  upon  others ;  and 
how  impossible  it  is,  to  stir  a  step,  or,  what  is  worse, 
to  sit  still  a  moment,  without  such  trust  and  depen- 
dence. I  am  now  writing  at  my  ease,  not  doubting 
(or  rather  never  distrusting,  and  therefore  never 
thinking  about  it)  but  that  the  butcher  will  send  in 
the  joint  of  meat,  which  I  ordered  ;  that  his  servant 
will  bring  it ;  that  my  cook  will  dress  it ;  that  my 
footman  will  serve  it  up  ;  and  that  T  shall  find  it  up- 
on the  table  at  one  o'clock.  Yet  have  I  nothing  for 
all  this,  but  the  promise  of  the  butcher,  and  the  im- 
plied promise  of  his  servant  and  mine.  And  the 
same  holds  of  the  most  important,  as  well  as  the  most 
familiar  occurences  of  social   life.     In  the  one  the 


Promises,  99 

intervention  of  promises  are  formal,  and  is  seen  and 
acknowledged;  our  instance,  therefore,  is  intended 
to  show  it  in  the  other,  where  it  is  not  so  distinctly 
observed. 

II.     In  what  sense  Pro?nises  are  to  he  interpreted. 

Where  the  terms  of  a  promise  admit  of  more  senses 
than  one,  the  promise  is  to  be  performed  "  in  that 
sense  in  which  the  promiser  apprehended  at  the  time 
that  the  promisee  received  it.'* 

It  is  not  the  sense  in  which  the  promiser  actually 
intended  it,  that  always  governs  the  interpretation 
of  an  equivocal  promise  ;  because  at  that  rate,  you 
might  excite  expectations  which  you  never  meant, 
nor  would  be  obliged,  to  satisfy.  Much  less  is  it  the 
sense,  in  which  the  promisee  actually  received  the 
promise ;  for  according  to  that  rule,  you  might  be 
drawn  into  engagements  which  you  never  designed 
to  undertake.  It  must  therefore  be  the  sense  (for 
there  is  no  other  remaining)  in  which  the  promiser 
believed  that  the  promisee  accepted  his  promise. 

This  W'ill  not  differ  from  the  actual  intention  of 
the  promiser,  where  the  promise  is  given  without 
collusion  or  reserve  ;  but  we  put  the  rule  in  the  above 
form,  to  exclude  evasion  in  cases  in  which  the  popu- 
lar meaning  of  a  phrase,  and  the  strict  grammatical 
signification  of  the  words  differ,  or,  in  general,  wher- 
ever the  promiser  attempts  to  make  his  escape  through 
some  ambiguity  in  the  expressions  which  he  used. 

Temures  promised  the  garrison  of  Sebasiia,  that,  if 
they  would  surrender,  no  blood  shoidd  he  shed.  The 
garrison  surrendered  :  and  Temures  buried  them  all 
alive.  Now  Temures  fulfilled  the  promise  m  one  sense, 
and  in  the  sense  too  in  which  he  intended  it  at  the 
time  ;  but  not  in  the  sense  in  which  the  garrison  of 
Sebastia  actually  received  it,  nor  in  the  sense  in  which 
Temures  himself  knew  that  the  garrison  received  it : 
which  last  sense,  according  to  our  rule,  was  the  sense 
he  was  in  conscience  bound  to  have  performed  it  in. 
From  the  account  we  have  given  of  the  obligation 
pf  promises,  it  is  evident,   that  this  obligation  de- 


100  Promises. 

pends  upon  the  expectations  which  we  knowingly  and 
voluntarily  excite.  Consequently,  any  action  or 
conduct  towards  another,  which  we  are  sensible  ex- 
cites expectations  in  that  other,  is  as  much  a  promise, 
and  creates  as  strict  an  obligation,  as  the  most  express 
assurances.  Taking,  for  instance,  a  kinsman's  child, 
and  educating  him  for  a  liberal  profession,  or  in  a 
manner  suitable  only  for  the  heir  of  a  large  fortune, 
as  much  obliges  us  to  place  him  in  that  profession, 
or  to  leave  him  such  a  fortune,  as  if  we  had  given 
him  a  promise  to  do  so  under  our  hands  and  seals. 
In  like  manner,  a  great  man,  who  encourages  an  in- 
digent retainer;  or  a  minister  of  state,  who  distin- 
guishes and  caresses  at  his  levee,  one  who  is  in  a  situ- 
ation to  be  obliged  by  his  patronage,  engages  by 
such  behaviour,  to  provide  for  him.  This  is  the 
foundation  oi  tacit  promises. 

You  may  either  simply  declare  your  present  inten- 
tion, or  you  may  accompany  your  declaration  v/ith 
an  engagement  to  abide  by  it,  which  constitutes  a 
complete  promise.  In  the  first  case,  the  duty  is  sat- 
isfied, if  you  were  sincere,  that  is,  if  you  entertained 
at  the  time  the  intention  you  expressed,  however 
soon  or  for  whatever  reason,  you  afterwards  change 
it.  In  the  latter  case,  you  have  parted  with  the  lib- 
erty of  changing.  All  this  is  plain  ;  but  it  must  be 
observed,  that  most  of  those  forms  of  speech,  which 
strictly  taken,  amount  to  no  more  than  declarations 
of  present  intention,  do  yet,  in  the  usual  way  of  un- 
derstanding them,  excite  the  expectation,  and  there- 
tore  carry  with  them  the  force  of  absolute  promises. 
Such  as,  "  I  intend  you  this  place."  "  I  design  to 
leave  you  this  estate."  "  I  purpose  giving  you  my 
vote."  "  I  mean  to  serve  you."  In  which  although 
the  "  intention,"  the  "  design,"  the  *'  purpose,"  the 
*'  meaning,"  be  expressed  in  words  of  the  present 
time,  yet  you  cannot  afterwards  recede  from  them, 
without  a  breach  of  good  faith.  If  you  choose  there- 
fore to  make  known  your  present  intention,  and 
yet  to  reserve  to  yourself  the  liberty  of  changing  it. 


Pro?nises  lOl 

you  must  guard  your  expressions  by  an  additional 
clause,  as,  "I  intend  at  present — if  I  don't  alter''* — or 
the  like  ;  and  after  all,  as  there  can  be  no  reason  for 
communicating  your  intention,  but  to  excite  some  de- 
gree of  expectation  or  other,  a  wanton  change  of  an 
intention  which  is  once  disclosed,  always  disappoints 
somebody  ;  and  is  always,  for  that  reason,  wrong. 

There  is,  in  some  men,  an  infirmity  with  regard 
to  promises,  which  often  betrays  them  into  greac 
distress.  From  the  confusion,  or  hesitation,  or  ob- 
scurity, with  which  they  express  themselves,  espe- 
cially when  overawed,  or  taken  by  surprise,  they 
sometimes  encourage  expectations,  and  bring  upon 
.  themselves  demands,  which  possibly  they  never 
dreamed  of.  'I'his  is  a  want,  not  so  much  of  integ- 
rity as  of  presence  of  mind. 

III.     In  what  cases  promises  are  not  binding. 

1 .  Promises  are  not  binding,  where  the  perform- 
ance is  i?npossibIe. 

But  observe,  that  the  promiser  is  guilty  of  a  fraud, 
if  he  be  privately  aware  of  the  impossibility,  at  the 
time  of  making  the  promise.  For  when  any  one 
promises  a  thing,  he  asserts  his  belief,  at  least,  of  the 
possibility  of  performing  it ;  as  no  one  can  accept  or 
understand  a  promise  under  any  other  supposition. 
Instances  of  this  sort  are  the  following.  The  minLs- 
ter  promises  a  place,  which  he  knows  to  be  engaged, 
or  not  at  his  disposal — A  father^  in  settling  mar- 
riage articles,  promises  to  leave  his  daughter  an  es- 
tate, which  he  knows  to  be  entailed  upon  the  heir 
male  of  his  family — A  merchant  promises  a  ship,  or 
share  of  a  ship,  which  he  is  secretly  advised  is  lost  at 
sea — An  incumbent  promises  to  resign  a  living,  be- 
ing previously  assured  that  his  resignation  will  not 
be  accepted  by  the  bishop.  The  promiser,  as  in  these 
cases,  with  knowledge  of  the  impossibility,  is  justly 
answerable  in  an  equivalent ;  but  otherwise  not. 

When  the  promiser  himself  occasions  the  impossi- 
-l)ility,  it  is  neither  more  nor  less  than  a  direct  breach 


i02  Pr 


onuses. 


of  the  promise  ;  as  when  a  soldier  maims,  or  a  ser- 
vant disables  himself  to  get  rid  of  his  engagements. 

2.  Promises  are  not  binding,  where  the  perform- 
ance is  unlawful. 

There  are  two  cases  of  this  ;  one,  where  the  un- 
lawfulness is  known  to  the  parties,  at  the  time  of 
making  the  promise ;  as  where  an  as  assin  promises 
his  employer  to  dispatch  his  rival  or  enemy  ;  a  ser- 
vant to  betray  his  master  ;  a  pimp  to  procure  a  mis- 
tress ;  or  a  friend  to  give  his  assistance  in  a  scheme 
of  seduction.  The  parties  in  these  cases  are  not 
obliged  to  perform  what  the  promise  requires,  be- 
cause they  were  under  a  prior  obligation  to  the  contrary. 

From  which  prior  obligation,  what  is  there  to 
discharge  them  ?  Their  promise — their  own  act  and 
deed  :  but  an  obligation,  from  which  a  man  can  dis- 
charge himself,  by  his  own  act,  is  no  obligation  at  all. 
The  guilt  therefore  of  such  promises  lies  in  the  mak- 
ing, not  in  the  breaking  them  ;  and  if,  in  the  interval 
betwixt  the  promise  and  the  performance,  a  man  so 
far  recover  his  reflection,  as  to  repent  of  his  engage- 
ments, he  ought  certainly  to  break  through  them. 

The  other  case  is,  where  the  unlawfulness  did  not 
exist,  or  was  not  known,  at  the  time  of  making  the 
promise ;  as  where  a  merchant  promises  his  corres- 
pondent abroad,  to  send  him  a  ship-load  of  corn  at 
a  time  appointed,  and  before  the  time  arrives,  an 
embargo  is  laid  upon  the  exportation  of  corn— A 
woman  gives  a  promise  of  marriage ;  before  the 
marriage,  she  discovers  that  her  intended  husband  is 
too  nearly  related  to  her,  or  that  he  has  a  wife  yet 
living.  In  all  such  cases,  where  the  contrary  does 
not  appear,  it  mu>t  be  presumed,  that  the  parties 
supposed  what  they  promised  to  be  lawful,  and  that 
the  promise  proceeded  entirely  upon  this  supposition. 
The  lawfulness  therefore  becomes  a  condition  of  the 
promise  :  and  where  the  condition  fails,  the  obliga- 
tion ceases.  Of  the  same  nature  v/as  Herod's  prom- 
ise to  his  daughter-in-law,  "  that  he  would  give  her 


.PrG?nises,  103 

whatever  she  asked,  even  to  the  half  of  his  kingdom.*' 
The  promise  was  not  unlawful,  in  the  terms  in  which 
Herod  delivered  it ;  and  when  it  became  so  by  the 
daughter's  choice,  by  her  demanding  "  John  the 
Baptist's  head,"  Herod  was  discharged  from  the  ob- 
ligation of  it,  for  the  reason  now  laid  down,  as  well 
as  for  that  given  in  the  last  paragraph. 

This  rule,  "  that  promises  are  void,  where  the  per- 
formance is  unlawful,"  extends  also  to  imperfect  ob- 
ligations :  for  the  reason  of  the  rule  holds  of  all  ob- 
ligations. Thus,  if  you  promise  a  nian  a  place,  or 
your  vote,  and  he  afterwards  render  himself  unfit  to 
receive  either,  you  are  absolved  from  the  obligation 
of  your  promise  j  or,  if  a  better  candidate  appear, 
and  it  be  a  case  in  which  you  are  bound  by  oath,  or 
otherwise,  to  govern  yourself  by  the  qualification, 
the  promise  must  be  broken  through. 

And  here  I  would  recommend,  to  young  persons 
especially,  a  caution,  from  the  neglect  of  which,  ma- 
ny involve  themselves  in  embarrassment  and  disgrace  j 
and  that  is,  "  never  to  give  a  promise  which  may  in- 
terfere in  the  event  with  their  duty ;"  for  if  it  do 
so  interfere,  their  duty  must  be  discharged,  though 
at  the  expense  of  their  promise,  and  not  unusually  of 
their  good  name. 

The  specific  performance  of  promises  is  reckoned 
a  perfect  obligation.  And  many  casuists  have  laid 
down,  in  opposition  to  what  has  been  here  asserted, 
that,  where  a  perfect  and  an  imperfect  obligation 
clash,  the  perfect  obligation  is  to  be  preferred.  For 
which  opinion,  however,  there  seems  to  be  no  reason, 
but  what  arises  from  the  terms  "perfect"  and  "im- 
perfect," the  impropriety  of  which  has  been  remark- 
ed above.  The  truth  is,  of  two  contradictory  obli- 
gations, that  ought  to  prevail  which  is  prior  in  point 
of  time. 

It  is  the  performance  being  unlawful,  and  not  any 
unlawfulness  in  the  subject  or  motive  of  the  promise, 
which  destroys  its  validity  ;    therefore  a  bribe,  after 
o 


104  Promises. 

the  vote  is  given  ;  the  wages  of  prostitution  ;  the  re- 
ward  of  any  crime,  after  the  crime  is  committed, 
ought,  if  promised,  to  be  paid.  For  the  sin  and  mis- 
chief, by  this  supposition,  are  over,  and  will  be  nei- 
ther more  nor  less  for  the  performance  of  the  promise. 

In  like  manner,  a  promise  does  not  lose  its  obliga- 
tion, merely  because  it  proceeded  from  an  unlawful 
motive.  A  certain  person,  in  the  lifetime  of  his  wife, 
who  was  then  sick,  had  paid  his  addresses,  and  prom- 
ised marriage  to  another  woman  ;  the  wife  died,  and 
the  woman  demands  performance  of  the  promise. 
The  man,  who,  it  seems,  had  changed  his  mind,  ei- 
ther felt  or  pretended  doubts  concerning  the  obliga- 
tion of  such  a  promise,  and  referred  his  case  to  Bish- 
op Sanderson,  the  most  eminent  in  this  kind  of 
knowledge,  of  his  time.  Bishop  Sanderson,  after 
writing  a  dissertation  upon  the  question,  adjudged  the 
promise  to  be  void.  In  which,  however,  upon  our 
principles,  he  was  wrong  ;  for,  however  criminal 
the  affection  might  be,  which  induced  the  promise, 
the  performance,  when  it  was  demanded,  was  law- 
ful ;  which  is  the  only  lawfulness  required. 

A  promise  cannot  be  deemed  unlawful,  where  it 
produces,  when  performed,  no  effect,  beyond  what 
would  have  taken  place,  had  the  promise  never  been 
made.  And  this  is  the  single  case,  in  which  the  ob- 
ligation of  a  promise  will  justify  a  conduct,  which, 
unless  it  had  been  promised,  would  be  unjust.  A 
captive  may  lawfully  recover  his  liberty,  by  a  prom- 
ise of  neutrality  ;  for  his  conqueror  takes  nothing 
by  the  promise,  which  he  might  not  have  secured  by 
his  death  or  confinement :  and  neutrality  would  be 
innocent  in  him,  although  criminal  in  another.  It 
is  manifest,  however,  that  promises  which  come  into 
the  place  of  coercion,  can  extend  no  farther  than  to 
passive  compliances  ;  for  coercion  itself  could  compel 
no  more.  Upon  the  same  principle,  promises  of  secre- 
cy ought  not  to  be  violated,  although  the  public 
would  derive  advantage  from  the  discovery.  Such 
promises  contain  no  unlawfulness  in  them,  to  destroy 


Promises,  105 

tlieir  obligation  ;  for,  as  information  would  not  have 
been  imparted  upon  any  other  condition,  the  public 
lose  nothing  by  the  promise,  which  they  would  have 
gained  without  it. 

3.  Promises  are  not  binding,  where  they  contra- 
dict a  former  promise. 

Because  the  performance  is  then  unlawful,  which 
resolves  this  case  into  the  last. 

4.  Promises  are  not  binding  before  acceptance  ; 
that  is,  before  notice  given  to  the  promisee ;  for, 
where  the  promise  is  beneficial,  if  notice  be  given,  ac- 
ceptance may  be  presumed.  Until  the  promise  be 
communicated  to  the  promisee,  it  is  the  same  only 
as  a  resolution  in  the  mind  of  the  promiser,  which 
may  be  altered  at  pleasure.  For  no  expectation  has 
been  excited,  therefore  none  can  be  disappointed. 

But  suppose  I  declare  my  intention  to  a  third  per- 
son, who,  without  any  authority  from  me,  conveys 
my  declaration  to  the  promisee  ;  is  that  such  a  notice 
as  will  be  binding  upon  me  ?  It  certainly  is  not :  for 
I  have  not  done  that  which  constitutes  the  essence  of 
a  promise — I  have  not  voluntarily  excited  expectation, 

5.  Promises  are  not  binding  which  are  released  by 
the  promisee. 

1  his  is  evident ;  but  it  may  be  sowetimes  doubt- 
ed who  is  the  promisee.  If  I  give  a  promise  to  A,  of 
a  place  or  vote  for  B  ;  as  to  a  father  for  his  son  ;  to 
an  uncle  for  his  nephew  ;  to  a  friend  of  mine,  for  a 
relation  or  friend  of  his  ;  then  A  is  the  promisee, 
whose  consent  I  must  obtain,  to  be  released  from  the 
engagement. 

If  I  promise  a  place  or  vote  to  B  by  A,  that  is,  if 
A  be  a  messenger  to  convey  the  promise,  as  if  I  should 
say,  "  you  may  tell  B,  that  he  shall  have  this  place, 
or  may  depend  upon  my  vote  ;'*  or  if  A  be  employ- 
ed to  introduce  B's  request,  and  I  answer  in  any 
terms  which  amount  to  a  compliance  with  it ;  then 
B  is  the  promisee. 

Promises  to  one  person,  for  the  benefit  of  another, 
are  not  released  by  the  death  of  the   promisee.     For 


106  Promises, 

his  death  neither  makes  the  performance  impractica- 
ble, nor  implies  any  consent  to  release  the  promiser 
from  it. 

6.  Erroneous  promises  are  not  binding  in  certain 
cases ;  as. 

First,  Where  the  error  proceeds  from  the  mistake 
or  misrepresentation  of  the  promisee. 

Because,  a  promiser  evidently  supposes  the  truth 
of  the  account  which  the  promisee  relates  in  order 
to  obtain  it.  A  beggar  solicits  your  charity  by  a 
story  of  the  most  pitiable  distress — you  promise  to 
relieve  him,  if  he  will  call  again  ;  in  the  interval  you 
discover  his  story  to  be  made  up  of  lies ;  this  discov- 
ery, no  doubt,  releases  you  from  your  promise.  One 
who  wants  your  service,  describes  the  business  or  of- 
fice for  which  he  would  engage  you  j  you  promise 
to  undertake  it ;  when  you  come  to  enter  upon  it, 
you  find  the  profits  less,  the  labour  more,  or  some 
material  circumstance  different  from  the  account  be 
gave  you-^Tn  such  case  you  are  not  bound  by  your 
promise. 

Second,  When  the  promise  is  understood  by  the 
promisee  to  proceed  upon  a  certain  supposition,  or 
when  the  promiser  apprehended  he  so  understood 
it,  and  that  supposition  turns  out  to  be  false ;  then 
the  promise  is  not  binding. 

This  intricate  rule  will  be  best  explained  by  an  ex- 
ample. A  father  receives  an  account  from  abroad 
of  the  death  of  his  only  son — soon  after  which  he 
promises  his  fortune  to  his  nephew :  The  account 
turns  out  to  be  false — the  father,  we  say,  is  released 
from  his  promise ;  not  merely  because  he  never 
would  have  made  it,  had  he  known  the  truth  of  the 
case — for  that  alone  will  not  do — but  because  the 
nephew  also  himself  understood  the  promise  to  pro- 
ceed upon  the  supposition  of  his  cousin's  death,  or  at 
least  his  uncle  thought  he  so  understood  it ;  and 
could  not  think  otherwise.  The  promise  proceeded 
upon  this  supposition  in  the  promiser*s  own  appre- 
hension, and  as  he  believed,  in  the  apprehension  of 


Promises,  lOY 

both  parties  ;  and  this  belief  of  his  is  the  precise  cir- 
cumstance which  sets  him  free.  The  foundation  of 
the  rule  is  plainly  this  ;  a  man  is  bound  only  to  satis- 
fy the  expectation  which  he  intended  to  excite ; 
whatever  condition,  therefore,  he  intended  to  sub- 
ject that  expectation  to,  becomes  an  essential  condi- 
tion of  the  promise. 

Errors,  which  come  not  within  this  description," 
do  not  annul  the  obligation  of  a  promise.  I  promise 
a  candidate  my  vote ;  presently  another  candidate 
appears,  for  whom  I  certainly  would  hdve  reserved 
it,  had  I  been  acquainted  with  his  design.  Here, 
therefore,  as  before,  my  promise  proceeded  from  an 
error  ;  and  I  never  should  have  given  such  a  prom- 
ise, had  I  been  aware  of  the  truth  of  the  case,  as  it 
has  turned  out ;  but  the  promisee  did  not  know  this — ■ 
he  did  not  receive  the  promise  subject  to  any  such 
condition,  or  as  proceeding  from  any  such  supposi- 
tion ;  nor  did  I  at  the  time  imagine  he  so  received 
it.  This  error,  therefore,  of  mine,  must  fall  upon 
my  own  head,  and  the  promise  be  observed  notwith- 
standing. A  father  promises  a  certain  fortune  with 
his  daughter,  supposing  himself  to  be  worth  so  much  ; 
his  circumstances  turn  out,  upon  examination, 
worse  than  he  was  aware  of.  Here  again  the  prom- 
ise was  erroneous,  but,  for  the  reason  assigned  in  the 
last  case,  will  nevertheless  be  obligatory. 

The  case  of  erroneous  promises  is  attended  with 
some  difficulty  ;  for  to  allow  every  mistake,  or 
change  of  circumstances  to  dissolve  the  obligation  of 
a  promise,  would  be  to  allow  a  latitude,  which  might 
evacuate  the  force  of  almost  all  promises  ;  and,  on 
the  other  hand,  to  gird  the  obligation  so  tight,  as  ta 
make  no  allowances  for  manifest  and  fundamental 
errors,  would,  in  many  instances,  be  productive  of 
great  hardship  and  absurdity. 


It  has  long  been  controverted  amongst  moralists^ 
whether  promises  be  binding,  which  are  extorted  by 
violence  or  fear.     The  obligation  of  all  promises  re- 


108  Promises* 

suits,  we  have  seen,  from  the  necessity  or  the  use  of 
that  confidence  which  mankind  repose  in  them.  The 
question,  therefore,  whether  these  promises  are  bind- 
ing, will  depend  upon  this,  whether  mankind,  upon 
the  whole,  are  benefited  by  the  confidence  placed  in 
such  promises  ?  A  highwayman  attacks  you — and, 
being  disappointed  of  his  booty,  threatens  or  prepares 

*to  murder  you ;  you  promise,  with  many  solemn  as- 
servations,  that,  if  he  will  spare  your  life,  he  shall 
find  a  purse  of  money  left  for  him  at  a  place  appoint- 
ed. Upon  the  faith  of  this  promise  he  forbears  from 
farther  violence.  Now,  your  life  was  saved  by  the 
confidence  reposed  in  a  promise  extorted  by  fear  ; 
and  the  lives  of  many  others  may  be  saved  by  the 
same.  This  is  a  good  consequence.  On  the  other 
hand,  confidence  in  promises  like  these,  greatly  fa- 
cilitates the  perpetration  of  robberies.  Thsy  may  be 
made  the  instruments  of  almost  unlimited  extortion. 
This  is  a  bad  consequence  ;  and  in  the  question  be- 
tween the  importance  of  these  opposite  consequences 
resides  the  doubt  concerning  the  obligation  of  such 
promises. 

There  are  other  cases  which  are  plainer  ;  as  where 
a  magistrate  confines  a  disturber  of  the  public  peace 
in  jail,  till  he  promise  to  behave  better  ;  or  a  prison- 
er of  war  promises,  if  set  at  liberty,  to  return  within 

••a  certain  time.  These  promises,  say  moralists,  are 
binding,  because  the  violence  or  duress  is  just ;  but, 
the  truth  is,  because  there  is  the  same  use  of  of  confi- 
dence in  these  promises,  as  of  confidence  in  the  prom- 
ises of  a  person  at  perfect  liberty. 


Vows  are  promises  to  God.  The  obligation  cannot 
be  made  out  upon  the  same  principle  as  that  of  oth- 
er promises.  The  violation  of  them,  nevertheless, 
implies  a  want  of  reverence  to  the  Supreme  Being  ; 
which  is  enough  to  make  it  sinful. 

There  appears  no  command  or  encouragement  in 
the  Christian  scriptures  to  make  vows ;  much  less  any 
authority  to   break  through  them,  when  they   are 


Contracts.  109 

made.  The  few  instances*  of  vows  which  we  read 
of  in  the  New  Testament,  were  religiously  observed. 
The  rules  we  have  laid  down  concerning  promises 
are  applicable  to  vows.  Thus  Jephthah*s  vow,  taken 
in  the  sense  in  which  that  transaction  is  commonly 
understood,  was  not  binding  ;  because  the  perform- 
ance, in  that  contingency,  became  unlawful. 


CHAPTER  Nl. 
CONTRACTS. 

A  CONTRACT  is  a  mutual  promise.  The 
obligation,  therefore,  of  contracts  ;  the  sense  in  which 
they  are  to  be  interpreted  ;  and  the  cases  where  they 
are  not  binding,  will  be  the  same  as  of  promises. 

From  the  principle  established  in  the  last  Chapter, 
«*  that  the  obligation  of  promises  is  to  be  measured 
by  the  expectation,  which  the  promiser  any  how 
voluntarily  and  knowingly  excites,"  results  a  rule, 
which  governs  the  construction  of  all  contracts,  and 
is  capable,  from  its  simplicity,  of  being  applied  with 
great  ease  and  certainty,  viz.     That, 

Whatever  is  expected  by  one  side^  and  knoivn  to  he  so  ex- 
pected by  the  other ^  is  to  be  deemed  a  part  or  condition  of 
the  contract. 

The  several  kinds  of  contracts,  and  the  order  in 
which  we  propose  to  consider  them,  may  be  exhibited 
at  one  view  :  thus. 
Sale. 
Hazard. 

Lending  of  ^  Jj'""'"'"''^'''  P^P^^'y- 
Contracts  of  -^  ro      -        ^' 


Labour. 


Service. 
Commissions. 
Partnership. 
Offices. 


*  Acts  xvlii.  18,     xxi.  23. 


1 10  Contracts  of  Sale. 

CHAPTER     VII. 
CONTRACTS  OF  SALE. 

1  HE  rule  of  justice,  which  wants  most  to  be 
inculcated  in  the  making  of  bargains,  is,  that  the  sel- 
ler is  bound  in  conscience  to  disclose  the  faults  of 
what  he  offers  for  sale.  Amongst  other  methods  of 
proving  this,  one  may  be  the  following  : 

I  suppose  it  will  be  allowed,  that  to  advance  a  direct 
falsehood  in  recommendation  of  our  wares,  by  ascrib- 
ing to  them  some  quality  which  we  know  that  they 
have  not,  is  dishonest.  Now  compare  with  this  the 
designed  concealment  of  some  fault,  which  we  know 
that  they  have.  The  motives  and  the  effects  of  ac- 
tions are  the  only  points  of  comparison,  in  vi^hich 
their  moral  quality  can  differ  ;  but  the  motives  in 
these  two  cases  are  the  same,  viz.  to  procure  a  high- 
er price  than  we  expect  otherwise  to  obtain  ;  the  effect, 
that  is,  the  prejudice  to  the  buyer,  is  also  the  same  5 
for  he  finds  himself  equally  out  of  pocket  by  his  bar- 
gain, whether  the  commodity,  when  he  gets  home 
with  it,  turn  out  worse  than  he  had  supposed,  by  the 
Vi^ant  of  some  quality  which  he  expected,  or  the  dis- 
covery of  some  fault  which  he  did  not  expect.  If 
therefore  actions  be  the  same,  as  to  all  moral  pur- 
poses, which  proceed  from  the  same  motives,  and  pro- 
duce the  same  effects  ;  it  is  making  a  distinction 
whhout  a  difference,  to  esteem  it  a  cheat  to  magnify 
beyond  the  truth  the  virtues  of  what  we  sell,  but 
none  to  conceal  its  faults. 

It  adds  to  the  value  of  this  kind  of  honesty,  that 
the  faults  of  many  things  are  of  a  nature  not  to  be 
known  by  any,  but  by  the  persons  who  have  used 
them :  so  that  the  buyer  has  no  security  from  im- 
position, but  in  the  ingenuousness  and  integrity  of 
the  seller. 

There  is  one  exception,  however,  to  this  rule, 
namely,  where  the  silence  of  the  seller  implies  some 


Contracts  of  Sate.  Ill 

fault  in  the  thing  to  be  sold,  and  where  the  buyer 
has  a  compensation  in  the  price  for  the  risk  which  he 
runs :  as  where  a  horse,  in  a  London  repository,  is 
sold  by  pubHc  auction,  without  warranty  ;  the  want 
of  warranty  is  notice  of  some  unsoundness,  and  pro- 
duces a  proportionable  abatement  in  the  price* 

To  this  of  concealing  the  faults  of  what  we  want 
to  put  off,  may  be  referred  the  practice  of  passing  baci 
money.  This  practice  we  sometimes  hear  defended 
by  a  vulgar  excuse,  that  we  have  taken  the  money 
for  good,  and  must  therefore  get  rid  of  it.  Which 
excuse  is  much  the  same,  as  if  one,  who  had  been 
robbed  upon  the  highway,  should  allege  he  had  a 
right  to  reimburse  himself  out  of  the  pocket  of  the 
first  traveller  he  met ;  the  justice  of  which  reasoning 
the  traveller  possibly  may  not  comprehend. 

Where  there  exists  no  monopoly  or  combinatioflj 
the  market  price  is  always  a  fair  price;  because  it 
will  always  be  proportionable  to  the  use  and  scarcity 
of  the  article.  Hence,  there  need  be  no  scruple 
about  demanding  or  taking  the  market  price ;  and 
all  those  expressions,  "  provisions  are  extravagantly 
dear,"  "corn  bears  an  unreasonable  price,"  and  the 
like,  import  no  unfairness  or  unreasonableness  in  the 
seller. 

If  your  tailor  or  your  draper  charge,  or  eVen  ask 
of  you  more  for  a  suit  of  clothes,  than  the  market 
price,  you  complain  that  you  are  imposed  upon  ; 
you  pronounce  the  tradesman  who  makes  such  a 
charge  dishonest :  although,  as  the  man's  goods 
were  his  own,  and  he  had  a  right  to  prescribe  the 
terms,  upon  which  he  would  consent  to  part  with 
them,  it  may  be  questioned  what  dishonesty  there 
can  be  in  the  case,  or  wherein  the  imposition  con- 
sists. Whoever  opens  a  shop,  or  in  any  manner  ex» 
poses  goods  to  public  sale,  virtually  engages  to  deal 
with  his  customers  at  a  market  price  ;  because  it  is 
upon  the  faith  and  opinion  of  such  an  engagement. 


112  Contracts  of  Sale. 

that  any  one  comes  within  his  shop  doors,  or  offers 
to  treat  with  him.  This  is  expected  by  the  buyer  ; 
is  known  to  be  so  expected  by  the  seller  ;  which  is 
enough,  according  to  the  rule  delivered  above,  to 
make  it  a  part  of  the  contract  between  them,  though 
not  a  syllable  be  said  about  it.  The  breach  of  this 
implied  contract  constitutes  the  fraud  inquired  after. 
>  Hence,  if  you  disclaim  any  such  engagement,  you 
may  set  what  value  you  please  upon  your  property. 
If,  upon  being  asked  to  sell  a  house,  you  answer  that 
the  house  suits  your  fancy  or  conveniency,  and  that 
you  will  not  turn  yourself  out  of  it  under  such  a 
price  ;  the  price  fixed  may  be  double  of  what  the 
house  cost,  or  would  fetch  at  public  sale,  without 
any  imputation  of  injustice  or  extortion  upon  you. 

If  the  thing  sold  be  damaged,  or  perish,  between 
the  sale  and  the  delivery,  ought  the  buyer  to  bear 
the  loss,  or  the  seller  ?  This  will  depend  upon  the 
particular  construction  of  the  contract.  If  the  seller, 
either  expressly,  or  by  implication,  or  by  custom, 
engage  to  deliver  the  goods  ;  as  if  I  buy  a  set  of  china, 
and  the  china  man  ask  me  whether  he  shall  bring  or 
send  them  to  me,  and  they  be  broken  in  the  convey- 
ance ;  the  seller  must  abide  by  the  loss.  If  the  thing 
sold  remain  with  the  seller,  at  the  instance,  or  for  the 
conveniency  of  the  buyer,  then  the  buyer  undertakes 
the  risk ;  as  if  I  buy  a  horse,  and  mention,  that  I 
will  send  for  it  on  such  a  day,  which  is  in  effect  de- 
siring that  it  may  continue  with  the  seller  till  I  do 
send  for  it ;  then  whatever  misfortune  befals  the 
horse  in  the  mean  time,  must  be  at  my  cost. 

And  here,  once  for  all,  I  would  observe,  that  in- 
numerable questions  of  this  sort  are  determined  solely 
by  custom  ;  not  that  custom  possesses  any  proper  au- 
thority to  alter  or  ascertain  the  nature  of  right  and 
wrong  ;  but  because  the  contracting  parties  are  pre- 
sumed to  include  in  their  stipulation,  all  the  condi- 
tions which  custom  has  annexed  to  contracts  of  the 
same  sort  j  and  when  the  usage  is  notorious,  and  no 


Contracts  of  Hazard.  113 

exception  made  to  it,  this  presumption  is  generally 
agreeable  to  the  fact.* 

If  I  order  a  pipe  of  port  from  a  wine  merchant 
abroad  ;  at  what  period  the  property  passes  from  the 
merchant  to  me  ;  whether  upon  the  delivery  of  the 
wine  at  the  merchant's  warehouse  ;  upon  its  being 
put  on  shipboard  at  Oporto  :  upon  the  arrival  of  the 
ship  in  England ;  at  its  destined  port ;  or  not  till 
the  wine  be  committed  to  my  servants,  or  deposited 
in  my  cellar,  are  all  questions,  which  admit  of  no  de- 
cision, but  what  custom  points  out.  Whence,  in 
justice,  as  well  as  lau^,  what  is  called  the  custom  of 
merchants^  regulates  the  construction  of  mercantile 
concers. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 
CONTRACTS  OF  HAZARD. 

JjY  Contracts  of  Hazard,  I  mean  gaming  and 
insurance. 

What  some  say  of  this  kind  of  contracts,  that  "  one 
side  ought  not  to  have  any  advantage  over  the  oth- 
er," is  neither  practicable  nor  true.  It  is  not  practi- 
cable ;  for  that  perfect  equality  of  skill  and  judgment, 
which  this  rule  requires,  is  seldom  to  be  met  with.  I 
might  not  have  it  in  my  power  to  play  with  fairness 
a  game  at  cards,  billiards,  or  tennis  ;  lay  a  wager  at 
a  horse  race  ;  or  underwrite  a  policy  of  insurance, 
once  in  a  twelvemonth,  if  I  must  wait  till  I  meet  with 
a  person,  whose  art,  skill,  and  judgment  in  these 
matters,  is  neither  greater  nor  less  th?n  my  own. 
Nor  is  this  equality  requisite  to  the  justice  of  the 
contract.     One  party  may  give  to  the  other  the  whole 

*  It  happens  here,  as  in  many  cases,  that  what  the  parties  ought  to  do,  and 
what  a  judge  or  arbitrator  would  award  to  be  done,  maybe  v£ry  different. 
What  the  parties  ought  to  do,  by  virtue  of  their  contract,  depends  upon  their 
consciousness  at  the  time  of  making  it ;  whereas  a  third  person  finds  it  ne- 
cessary to  found  his  judgment  upon  presumptions,  which  presumptions  may 
i>e  false,  although  the  most  probable  that  he  could  proceed  by. 


Il4t  Contracts  of  Hazard. 

of  the  stake,  if  he  please,  and  the  other  party  may 
justly  accept  it  if  it  be  given  him  ;  much  more  there- 
fore may  one  give  to  the  other  a  part  of  the  stake ; 
or,  what  is  exactly  the  same  thing,  an  advantage  in 
the  chance  of  winning  the  whole. 

The  proper  restriction  is,  that  neither  side  have  an 
advantage,  by  means  of  which  the  other  is  not  aware  ; 
for  this  is  an  advantage  taken,  without  being  given. 
Although  the  event  be  still  an  uncertainty,  your  ad- 
vantage in  the  chance  has  a  certain  value ;  and  so 
much  of  the  stake,  as  that  value  amounts  to,  is  taken 
from  your  adversary  without  his  knowledge,  and 
therefore  without  his  consent.  If  I  sit  down  to  a 
game  at  whist,  and  have  an  advantage  over  the  ad- 
versary, by  means  of  a  better  memory,  closer  atten- 
tion, or  superior  knowledge  of  the  rules  and  chances 
of  the  game,  the  advantage  is  fair ;  because  it  is  ob- 
tained by  means  of  which  the  adversary  is  aware  ; 
for  he  is  aware,  when  he  sits  down  with  me,  that  I 
shall  exert  the  skill  that  I  possess,  to  the  utmost.  But 
if  I  gain  an  advantage  by  packing  the  cards,  glancing 
my  eye  into  the  adversary's  hands,  or  by  concerted 
signals  with  my  partner,  it  is  a  dishonest  advantage  ; 
because  it  depends  upon  means,  which  the  adversary 
ijever  suspects  that  I  make  use  of. 

The  same  distinction  holds  of  all  contracts,  into 
which  chance  enters.  If  I  lay  a  wager  at  a  horse 
race,  founded  upon  the  conjecture  I  form  from  the 
appearance,  and  character,  and  breed  of  the  horse,  I 
am  justly  entitled  to  any  advantage  which  my  judg- 
ment gives  me  ;  but,  if  I  carry  on  a  clandestine  corres- 
pondence with  the  jockies,  and  find  out  from  them, 
that  a  trial  has  been  actually  made,  or  that  it  is  set- 
tled beforehand  which  horse  shall  win  the  race ;  all 
such  information  is  so  much  fraud,  because  derived 
from  sources,  which  the  other  did  not  suspect,  when 
he  proposed  or  accepted  the  wager. 

In  speculations  in  trade,  or  in  the  stocks,  if  I  exercise 
my  judgment  upon  the  general  aspect  and  posture  of 
public  affairs,  and  deal  with  a  person  who  conducts 


Contracts  of  Lending,  tsfc.  115 

himself  by  the  same  sort  of  judgment ;  the  contract 
has  all  the  equality  in  it  which  is  necessary  ;  but  if  I 
have  access  to  secrets  of  state  at  home,  or  private  ad- 
vice of  some  decisive  measure  or  event  abroad,  I  can- 
not avail  myself  of  these  advantages  with  justice,  be- 
cause they  are  excluded  by  the  contract,  which  pro- 
ceeded upon  the  supposition^  that  1  had  no  such  ad- 
vantage. 

In  insurances,  in  which  the  underwriter  computes 
his  risk  entirely  from  the  account  given  by  the  per- 
son insured,  it  is  absolutely  necessary  to  the  justice 
and  validity  of  the  contract,  that  this  account  be  ex- 
act and  complete. 


CHAPTER     IX. 

CONTRACTS  OF  LENDING  OF  INCONSUM- 
ABLE PROPERTY. 

XA^HEN  the  identical  loan  is  to  be  returned, 
as  a  book,  a  horse,  a  harpsichord,  it  is  called  incon- 
sumable, in  opposition  to  corn,  wine,  money,  and 
those  things  which  perish,  or  are  parted  with  in  the 
use,  and  can  therfore  only  be  restored  in  kind. 

The  questions  under  this  head  are  few  and  simple. 
The  first  is,  if  the  thing  lent  be  lost  or  damaged, 
who  ought  to  bear  the  loss  or  damage  ?  If  it  be  dam- 
aged by  the  use,  or  by  accident,  in  the  use  for  which 
it  was  lent,  the  lender  ought  to  bear  it ;  as  if  I  hire 
a  job  coach,  the  wear,  tear,  and  soiling  of  the  coach, 
must  belong  to  the  lender  ;  or  a  horse  to  go  a  par- 
ticular journey,  and  in  going  the  proposed  journey, 
the  horse  die,  or  be  lamed,  the  loss  must  be  the  lend- 
er's :  on  the  contrary,  if  the  damage  be  occasioned 
by  the  fault  of  the  borrower,  or  by  accident  in  some 
use  for  which  it  was  not  lent,  then  the  borrower  must 
make  it  good  ;  as  if  the  coach  be  overturned  or 
broken  to  pieces  by  the  carelessness  of  your  coach- 
man 5    or  the  horse  be  hired  to  take  a  morning's 


116  Contracts  of  Lending,  l^c. 

ride  upon,  and  you  go  a  hunting  with  him,  or  leap 
him  over  hedges,  or  put  him  in  your  cart,  or  car- 
riage, and  he  be  strained,  or  staked,  or  galled,  or  ac- 
cidentally hurt,  or  drop  down  dead,  whilst  you  are 
thus  using  him ;  you  must  make  satisfaction  to  the 
owner. 

The  two  cases  are  distinguished  by  this  circum- 
stance, that  in  one  case,  the  owner  foresees  the  dam- 
age or  risk,  and  therefore  consents  to  undertake  it ; 
in  the  other  case  he  does  not. 

It  is  possible  that  an  estate  or  a  house,  may,  during 
the  term  of  a  lease,  be  so  increased  or  diminished  in 
its  value,  as  to  become  worth  much  more,  or  much 
less,  than  the  rent  agreed  to  be  paid  for  it.  In  some 
of  which  cases,  it  may  be  doubted,  to  whom,  of  nat- 
ural right,  the  advantage  or  disadvantage  belongs. 
The  rule  of  justice  seems  to  be  this:  if  the  altera- 
tion might  be  expected  by  the  parties,  the  hirer  must 
take  the  consequence  ;  if  it  could  not,  the  owner. 
An  orchard,  or  a  vineyard,  or  a  mine,  or  a  fishery, 
or  a  decoy,  may  this  year  yield  nothing,  or  next  to 
nothing,  yet  the  tenant  shall  pay  his  rent ;  and  if  the 
next  year  produce  tenfold  the  usual  profit,  no  more 
shall  be  demanded  ;  because  the  produce  is  in  its  na- 
ture precarious,  and  this  variation  might  be  expect- 
ed. If  an  estate  in  the  fens  of  Lincolnshire,  or  the 
isle  of  Ely,  be  overflowed  with  water,  so  as  to  be  in- 
capable of  occupation,  the  tenant,  notwithj-tanding, 
is  bound  by  his  lease ;  because  he  entered  into  it  with 
a  knowledge  and  foresight  of  this  danger.  On  the 
other  hand,  if  by  the  eruption  of  the  sea  into  a  coun- 
try where  it  was  never  known  to  have  come  before, 
by  the  change  of  the  course  of  a  river,  the  fall  of  a 
rock,  the  breaking  out  of  a  volcano,  the  bursting  of 
a  moss,  the  incursions  of  an  enemy,  or  by  a  mortal 
contagion  amongst  the  cattle  ;  if  by  means  like  these, 
an  estate  change,  or  lose  its  value,  the  loss  shall  fall 
upon  the  owner  ;  that  is,  the  tenant  shall  either  be 
discharged  from  his  agreement,  or  be  entitled  to  an 
abatement  of  rent.     A  house  in  London^  by  the  build- 


Contracts  concerning  the  Lending  of  Money.     117 

Jng  of  a  bridge,  the  opening  of  a  new  road  or  street, 
may  become  of  ten  times  its  former  value ;  and,  by 
contrary  causes,  may  be  as  much  reduced  in  value : 
here  also,  as  before,  the  owner,  not  the  hirer,  shall  be 
affected  by  the  alteration.  The  reason  upon  which 
our  determination  proceeds,  is  this ;  that  changes 
such  as  these  being  neither  foreseen  nor  provided  for, 
by  the  contracting  parties,  form  no  part  or  condition 
of  the  contract ;  and  therefore  ought  to  have  the 
same  effect  as  if  no  contract  at  all  had  been  made 
(for  none  was  made  with  respect  to  theni)  that  is, 
ought  to  fall  upon  the  owner. 


CHAPTER  X. 

CONTRACTS  CONCERNING  THE  LENDING 
OF  MONEY. 

1  HERE  exists  no  reason  in  the  law  of  nature^ 
why  a  man  should  not  be  paid  for  the  lending  of 
his  money,  as  well  as  of  any  other  property  into 
which  the  money  might  be  converted. 

The  scruples  that  have  been  entertained  upon  this 
head,  and  upon  the  foundation  of  which,  the  receiv- 
ing of  interest  or  usury  (for  they  formerly  meant 
the  same  thing)  was  once  prohibited  in  almost  all 
Christian  countries,*  arose  from  a  passage  in  the  law 
of  MosEs,  Deuteronomy^  xxiii.  19,  20.  "  Thou  shak 
not  lend  upon  usury  to  thy  brother  ;  usury  of  mon- 
ey, usury  of  victuals,  usury  of  any  thing  that  is  lent 
upon  usury :  unto  a  stranger  thou  mayest  lend  upon 
usury,  but  unto  thy  brother  thou  shalt  not  lend  upon 
usury." 

This  prohibition  is  now  generally  understood  to 
have  been  intended  for  the  Jews  alone,  as  part  of 

*  By  a  statute  of  James  the  First,  interest  above  eij^ht  pounds  per  cent, 
was  prohibited  (and  consequently  under  that  rate  allowed)  with  this  sag-e 
provision  :  That  this  statute  shall  not  he  construed  or  expnundtd  to  alloiu  the  practice 
bJ  usury  in  point  of  religion  or  conscience. 


118  Contracts  concerning  the 

the  civil  or  political  law  of  that  nation,  and  calcu- 
lated  to  preserve  amongst  themselves  that  distribu- 
tion of  property,  to  which  many  of  their  institu- 
tions were  subservient ;  as  the  marriage  of  an  heir- 
ess with  her  own  tribe ;  of  a  widow,  who  was  left 
childless,  to  her  husband's  brother;  the  year  of  ju- 
bilee, when  alienated  estates  reverted  to  the  family 
of  the  original  proprietor — regulations,  which  were 
never  thought  to  be  binding  upon  any  but  the  com- 
monwealth of  Israel. 

This  interpretation  is  confirmed,  I  think,  beyond 
all  controversy,  by  the  distinction  made  in  the  law, 
between  a  Jew  and  a  foreigner,  "  unto  a  stranger 
thou  mayest  lend  upon  usury,  but  unto  thy  brother 
thou  mayest  not  lend  upon  usury  ;"  a  distinction 
which  could  hardly  have  been  admitted  into  a  law 
which  the  divine  Author  intended  to  be  of  moral  and 
of  universal  obligation. 

The  rate  of  interest  has  in  most  countries  been  reg- 
ulated by  law.  The  Roman  law  allowed  of  twelve 
pounds  per  cent,  which  Justinian  reduced  at  one 
stroke  to  four  pounds.  A  statute  of  the  thirteenth 
year  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  which  was  the  first  that 
tolerated  the  receiving  of  interest  in  England  at  all, 
restrained  it  to  ten  pounds  per  cent.  ;  a  statute  of 
James  the  First,  to  eight  pounds  ;  of  Charles  the  Sec- 
ond, to  six  pounds  ;  of  Queen  A7i72e^  to  five  pounds, 
on  pain  of  forfeiture  of  treble  the  value  of  the  mon- 
ey lent ;  at  which  rate  and  penalty  the  matter  now 
stands.  The  policy  of  these  regulations  is,  to  check 
the  power  of  accumulating  wealth  without  industry  ; 
to  give  encouragement  to  trade,  by  enabling  adven- 
turers in  it  to  borrow  money  at  a  moderate  price  ; 
and,  of  late  years,  to  enable  the  state  to  borrow  the 
subject's  money  itself. 

Compound  interest,  though  forbidden  by  the  law 
of  England,  is  agreeable  enough  to  natural  equity ; 
for  interest  detained  after  it  is  due,  becomes,  to  all 
intents  and  purposes,  part  of  the  sum  lent. 


Lending  of  Money,  129 

It  is  a  question  which  sometimes  occurs,  how 
money  borrowed  in  one  country  ought  to  be  paid 
in  another,  where  the  relative  value  of  the  precious 
metals  is  not  the  same.  For  example,  suppose  I  bor- 
row an  hundred  guineas  in  London,  where  each  guin- 
ea is  worth  one  and  twenty  shillinj;s,  and  meet  my 
creditor  in  the  East  Indies,  where  a  guinea  is  worth 
no  more  perhaps  than  nineteen,  is  it  a  satisfaction 
of  the  debt  to  return  a  hundred  guineas  ;  or  must  I 
make  up  so  many  times  one  and  twenty  shillings  ?  I 
should  think  the  latter :  for  it  must  be  presumed, 
that  my  creditor,  had  he  not  lent  me  his  guineas, 
would  have  disposed  of  them,  in  such  a  manner,  as 
to  have  now  had,  in  the  place  of  them,  so  many 
one  and  twenty  shillings ;  and  the  question  supposes, 
•  that  he  neither  intended,  nor  ought  to  be  a  sufferer, 
by  parting  with  the  possession  of  his  money   to  me. 

When  the  relative  value  of  coin  is  altered  by  an 
act  of  the  state,  if  the  alteration  would  have  extend- 
ed to  the  identical  pieces  which  were  lent,  it  is  enough 
to  return  an  equal  number  of  pieces  of  the  same  de- 
nomination, or  their  present  value  in  any  other.  As 
if  guineas  were  reduced  by  an  act  of  parliament  to 
twenty  shillings,  so  many  twenty  shillings  as  I  bor- 
rowed guineas,  would  be  a  just  repayment.  It  would 
be  otherwise,  if  the  reduction  was  owing  to  a  de- 
basement of  the  coin  ;  for  then  respect  ought  to  be 
had  to  the  comparative  value  of  the  old  guinea  and 
the  new. 

Whoever  borrows  money  is  bound  In  conscience 
to  repay  it.  This  every  man  can  see :  but  every 
man  cannot  see,  or  does  not,  however,  reflect,  that 
he  is,  in  consequence,  also  bound  to  use  the  means 
necessary  to  enable  himself  to  repay  it.  "  If  he 
pay  the  money  when  he  has  it,  or  has  it  to  spare^ 
he  does  all  that  an  honest  man  can  do,**  and  all,  he 
imagines,  that  is  required  of  him  ;  whilst  the  previ- 
ous measures,  which  are  necessary  to  furnish  him. 
Q 


1 20  Contracts  concerning:  the 


i> 


with  that  money,  he  makes  no  part  of  his  care,  nor 
observes  to  be  as  much  his  duty  as  the  other ;  such 
as  selling  a  family  seat,  or  a  family  estate,  contracting 
his  plan  of  expense,  laying  down  his  equipage,  re- 
ducing the  number  of  his  servants,  or  any  of  those 
humiliating  sacrifices,  which  justice  requires  of  a  man 
in  debt,  the  moment  he  perceives  that  he  has  no  rea- 
sonable prospect  of  paying  his  debts  without  them. 

An  expectation,  which  depends  upon  the  continu- 
ance of  his  own  life,  will  not  satisfy  an  honest  man, 
if  a  better  provision  be  in  his  power :  for  it  is  a 
breach  of  faith  to  subject  a  creditor,  when  we  can 
help  it,  to  the  risk  of  our  life,  be  the  event  what  it 
will  J  that  not  being  the  security  to  which  credit 
was  given. 

I  know  few  subjects  which  have  been  more  mis- 
understood than  the  law  which  authorizes  the  im- 
prisonment of  insolvent  debtors.  It  has  been  repre- 
sented as  a  gratuitous  cruelty,  which  contributed 
nothing  to  the  reparation  of  the  creditor's  loss,  or 
to  the  advantage  of  the  community.  This  prejudice 
arises  principally  from  considering  the  sending  of  a 
debtor  to  jail,  as  an  act  of  private  satisfaction  to  the 
creditor,  instead  of  a  public  punishment.  As  an  act 
of  satisfaction  or  revenge,  it  is  always  wrong  in  the 
motive,  and  often  intemperate  and  undistinguishing 
in  the  exercise.  Consider  it  as  a  public  punishment, 
founded  upon  the  same  reason,  and  subject  to  the 
same  rules,  as  other  punishments  ;  and  the  justice  of 
it,  together  with  the  degree  to  which  it  should  be 
extended,  and  the  objects  upon  whom  it  may  be  in- 
flicted, will  be  apparent.  There  are  frauds  relating 
to  insolvency,  against  which  it  is  as  necessary  to  pro- 
vide punishment,  as  for  any  pubhc  crimes  whatever  ; 
as  where  a  man  gets  your  money  into  his  possession, 
and  forthwith  runs  away  with  it ;  or  what  is  little 
better,  squanders  it  in  vicious  ex})enses ;  or  stakes  it 
at  the  gaming  table  ;  in  the  alley  ;  or  upon  wild  ad- 
ventures in  trade ;  or  is  conscious  at  the  time  he 
borrows  it,  that  he  can  never  repay  itj  or  wilfully 


Lending  of  Money  122 

puts  it  out  of  his  power  by  profuse  living ;  or  con- 
ceals his  effects,  or  transfers  them  by  collusion  to  an- 
other ;  not  to  mention  the  obstinacy  of  some  debt- 
ors, who  had  rather  rot  in  jail,  than  deliver  up  their 
estate ;  for,  to  say  the  truth,  the  first  absurdity  is  in 
the  law  itself,  which  leaves  it  in  a  debtor's  power  to 
withhold  any  part  of  his  property  from  the  claim  of 
his  creditors.  The  only  question  is,  whether  the 
punishment  be  properly  placed  in  the  hands  of  an  ex- 
asperated creditor ;  for  which  it  may  be  said,  that 
these  frauds  are  so  subtile  and  versatile,  that  nothing 
but  a  discretionary  power  can  overtake  them  ;  and 
that  no  discretion  is  likely  to  be  so  well  informed, 
so  vigilant,  or  so  active,  as  that  of  the  creditor. 

It  must  be  remembered,  however,  that  the  con- 
finement of  a  debtor  in  jail  is  a  punish-ment  ;  and 
that  every  punishment  supposes  a  crime.  To  pursue, 
therefore,  with  the  extremity  of  legal  rigour,  a  suf- 
ferer, whom  the  fraud  or  failure  of  others,  his  own 
want  of  capacity,  or  the  disappointments  and  mis- 
carriages to  which  all  human  affairs  are  subject, 
have  reduced  to  ruin,  merely  because  we  are  pro- 
voked by  our  loss,  and  seek  to  relieve  the  pain  we 
l^el  by  that  which  we  inflict,  is  repugnant  not  only 
to  humanity,  but  to  justice  ;  for  it  is  to  pervert  a 
provision  of  law,  designed  for  a  different  and  a  salu- 
tary purpose,  to  the  gratification  of  private  spleen 
and  resentment.  Any  alteration  in  these  lawSj 
which  could  distinguish  the  degrees  of  guilt,  or  con- 
vert the  service  of  the  insolvent  debtors  to  some  pub- 
lic profit,  might  be  an  inprovement ;  but  any  con- 
siderable mitigation  of  their  rigour,  under  colour  of 
relieving  the  poor,  would  increase  their  hardships. 
For  whatever  deprives  the  creditor  of  his  power  of 
coercion,  deprives  him  of  his  security  ;  and  as  this 
must  add  greatly  to  the  difficulty  of  obtainig  credit, 
the  poor,  especially  the  lower  sort  of  tradesmen,  are 
the  first  who  would  suffer  by  such  a  regulation.  As 
tradesmen  must  buy  before  they  sell,  you  would  ex- 
clude from  trade  two  thirds  of  those  who  now  carry 


123  Service. 

it  on,  if  none  were  enabled  to  enter  into  it  without 
a  capital  sufficient  lor  prompt  payment.  An  advo- 
cate, therefore,  for  the  interests  of  this  important 
class  of  the  community,  will  deem  it  more  eligible, 
that  one  out  of  a  thousand  should  be  sent  to  jail  by  his 
creditors,  than  that  the  nine  hundred  and  ninety-nine 
should  be  straitened,  and  embarrassed,  and  many  oi 
them  lie  idle,  by  the  want  of  credit. 


CHAPTER     XI. 

CONTRACTS  OF  LABOUR. 

SERVICE. 

oERVICE  in  this  country  is,  as  it  ought  to 
be,  voluntary,  and  by  contract ;  and  the  master's 
authority  extends  no  farther  than  the  terms  or 
equitable  construction  of  the  contract  will  justify. 

The  treatment  of  servants,  as  to  diet,  discipline, 
and  accommodation,  the  kind  and  quantity  of  vi'ork 
to  be  required  of  them,  the  intermission,  liberty, 
and  indulgence  to  be  allowed  them,  must  be  deter- 
niined  in  a  great  measure  by  custom  ;  for  where  the 
contract  involves  so  many  particulars,  the  contract- 
ing parties  express  a  few  perhaps  of  the  principal, 
and  by  mutual  understanding  refer  the  rest  to  the 
l^nown  custom  of  the  country  in  like  cases. 

A  servant  is  not  bound  to  obey  the  unlawful  com- 
ynands  of  his  master ;  to  minister,  for  instance,  to 
his  unlawful  pleasures ;  or  to  assist  him  by  unlawful 
practices  in  his  profession  ;  as  in  smuggling  or  adul- 
terating the  articles  in  which  he  deals.  For  the 
servant  is  bound  by  nothing  but  his  own  promise ; 
and  the  obligation  of  a  promise  extends  not  to 
things  unlawful. 

For  the  same  reason,  the  master's  authority  is  no 
justification  of  the  servant  in  doing  wrong  ;  for  the 
servant's  own  promise,  upon  which  that  authority  is 
founded,  would  be  none. 


Service,  \2'd 

Clerks  and  apprentices  ought  to  be  employed  en- 
tirely in  the  prolession  or  trade  which  they  are 
intended  to  learn.  Instruction  is  their  hire,  and  to 
deprive  them  of  the  opportunities  ot  instruction,  by 
taking  up  their  time  with  occupations  foreign  to 
their  business,  is  to  defraud  them  of  their  wages. 

The  master  is  responsible  for  what  a  servant  does 
in  the  ordinary  course  of  his  employment ;  for  it  is 
done  under  a  general  authority  committed  to  him, 
which  is  in  justice  equivalent  to  a  specific  direction. 
Thus,  if  1  pay  money  to  a  banker's  clerk,  the  banker 
is  accountable  ;  but  not  if  I  had  paid  it  to  his  butler 
or  his  footman,  whose  business  it  h  not  to  receive 
money.  Upon  the  same  principle,  if  I  once  send  a 
servant  to  take  up  goods  upon  credit,  whatever  goods 
he  afterwards  takes  up  at  the  same  shop,  so  long  as 
he  continues  in  my  service,  are  justly  chargeable  to 
my  account. 

The  law  of  this  country  goes  great  lengths  in  in- 
tending a  kind  of  concurrence  in  the  master,  so  as 
to  charge  him  with  the  consequences  of  his  servant's 
conduct.  If  an  inn-keeper's  servant  rob  his  guests, 
the  inn-keeper  must  make  restitution ;  if  a  farrier's 
servant  lame  a  horse,  the  farrier  must  answer  for 
the  damage;  and,  still  farther,  if  your  coachman  or 
carter  drive  over  a  passenger,  in  the  road,  the  passen- 
ger may  recover  from  you  a  satisfaction  for  the 
hurt  he  suffers.  But  these  determinations  stand,  I 
think,  rather  upon  the  authority  of  the  law,  than 
any  principle  of  natural  justice. 

There  is  a  carelessness  and  facility  in  "  giving 
characters,"  as  it  is  called,  of  servants,  especially 
when  given  in  writing,  or  according  to  some  estab- 
lished  form,  which,  to  speak  plainly  of  it,  is  a  cheat 
upon  those  who  accept  them.  They  are  given  with 
so  little  reserve  and  veracity,  "  that  I  should  as  soon 
depend,"  says  the  author  of  the  Rambler,  "  upon 
an  acquittal  at  the  Old  Bailey,  by  way  of  recom- 
mendation of  a  servant's  honesty,  as  upon  one  of 
these  characters."   It  is  sometimes  carelessness  j  and 


1 24  Service. 

sometimes  also  to  get  rid  of  a  bad  servant  without  the 
laneasiness  of  a  dispute ;  for  which  nothing  can  be 
pleaded,  but  the  most  ungenerous  of  all  excuses, 
that  the  person  whom  we  deceive  is  a  stranger. 

There  is  a  conduct,  the  reverse  of  this,  but  more 
injurious,  because  the  injury  falls  where  there  is  no 
remedy.  I  mean  the  obstructing  a  servant's  advance- 
ment, because  you  are  unwilling  to  spare  his  service. 
To  stand  in  the  way  of  your  servant's  interest,  is  a 
poor  return  for  his  fidelity  ;  and  affords  slender  en'- 
couragement  for  good  behaviour,  in  this  numerous 
and  therefore  important  part  of  the  community. 
It  is  a  piece  of  injustice,  which,  if  practised  towards 
an  equal,  the  law  of  honour  would  lay  hold  of;  as 
it  is,  it  is  neither  unconmion  nor  disreputable. 

A  mas^r  of  a  family  is  culpable,  if  he  permit  any 
vices  among  his  domestics,  which  he  might  restrain 
by  due  discipline  and  a  proper  interference.  This  re- 
sults from  the  general  obligation  to  prevent  misery 
when  in  our  power ;  and  the  assurance  which  we 
have,  that  vice  and  misery  at  the  long  run  go  to- 
gether.  Care  to  maintain  in  his  family  a  sense  of 
virtue  and  religion,  received  the  divine  approbation 
in  the  person  of  Abraham,  G*?;?.  xvili.  19 — "  I  know 
him,  that  he  will  command  his  children,  and  his 
household  after  him  ;  and  they  ^hall  keep  the  way  of 
the  Lord,  to  do  justice  and  judgment."  And  indeed 
no  authority  seems  so  well  adapted  to  this  purpose, 
as  that  of  masters  of  families  :  because  none  opperates 
upon  the  subjects  of  it,  with  an  influence  so  immedi- 
ate and  constant. 

What  the  Christian  scriptures  have  delivered  con- 
cerning the  relation  and  reciprocal  duties  of  masters 
and  servants,  breathes  a  spirit  of  liberality,  very  little 
known  in  ages  when  servitude  was  slavery ;  and 
which  flowed  from  a  habit  of  contemplating  man- 
kind under  the  common  relation  in  which  they  stand 
to  their  Creator,  and  with  respect  to  their  interest 
in   another   existence.*     "  Servants,  be  obedient  to 

*  Eph.  vi.  5—9. 


Co?nmiss  ion's.  1 25 

!hem  that  are  your  masters  according  to  the  flesh, 
with  fear  and  trembling,  in  singleness  of  your  heart, 
as  unto  Christ ;  not  with  eye-service,  as  men  pleasers  ; 
but  as  the  servants  of  Christ,  doing  the  will  of  God 
from  the  heart,  with  good  will  doing  service,  as  to  the 
Lord,  and  not  to  men  :  knowing  that  whatsoever  good 
thing  any  man  doth,  the  same  shall  he  receive  of  the 
Lord,  whether  he  be  bond  or  free.  And,  ye  masters, 
do  the  same  thing  unto  them,  forbearing  threaten- 
ing ;  knowing  that  your  Master  also  is  in  heaven ; 
neither  is  there  respect  of  persons  with  him.**  The 
idea  of  referring  their  service  to  God,  of  considering 
him  as  having  appointed  them  their  task,  that  they 
were  doing  his  will,  and  were  to  look  to  hi7n  for  their 
reward,  vvas  new  j  and  affords  a  greater  security  to 
the  master  than  any  inferior  principle,  because  it 
tends  to  produce  a  steady  and  cordial  obedience  in 
the  place  of  that  constrained  service,  which  can  never 
be  trusted  out  of  sight,  and  which  is  justly  enough 
called  eye-service.  The  exhortation  to  masters,  to 
keep  in  view  their  own  subjection  and  accountable- 
ness,  was  no  less  seasonable. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

CONTRACTS  OF  LABOUR. 

COMMISSIONS. 


Wi 


HOEVER  undertakes  another  man's  busi- 
ness, makes  it  his  own,  that  is,  promises  to  employ 
upon  it  the  same  care,  attention  and  diligence,  that 
he  would  do  if  it  were  actually  his  own  ;  for  he 
knows  that  the  business  vvas  committed  to  him  with 
that  expectation.  And  he  promises  nothing  more 
than  this.  Therefore  an  agent  is  not  obliged  to  wait, 
inquire,  solicit,  ride  about  the  country,  toil,  or  study, 
whilst  there  remains  a  possibility  of  benefiting  his  em- 
ployer.    If  he  exert  so  much  of  his  activity,  and  use 


326  Commissiom. 

such  caution,  as  the  value  of  the  business  in  his  judge- 
ment deserves,  that  is,  as  he  would  have  thought 
sufficient,  if  the  same  interest  of  his  own  had  been 
at  stake,  he  has  discharged  his  duty,  although  it 
should  afterwards  turn  out,  that  by  more  activity, 
and  longer  perseverance,  he  might  have  concluded 
the  business  with  greater  advantage. 

This  rule  defines  the  duty  of  factors,  stewards, 
attorneys,  and  advocatates. 

One  of  the  chief  difficulties  of  an  agent's  situation 
is,  to  know  how  far  he  mav  depart  from  his  instruc- 
tions, when,  from  some  change  or  discovery  in  the 
circumstances  of  his  commission,  he  sees  reason  to  be- 
lieve that  his  employer,  if  he  were  present,  would  al- 
ter his  intention.  The  latitude  allowed  to  agents  in 
this  respect  will  be  different,  according  as  the  com- 
mission was  confidential  or  ministerial ;  and  accord- 
ing as  the  general  rule  and  nature  of  the  service  re- 
quire a  prompt  and  precise  obedience  to  orders,  or 
not.  An  attorney  sent  to  treat  for  an  estate,  if  he 
found  out  a  flaw  in  the  title,  would  desist  from  pro- 
posing the  price  he  was  directed  to  propose  ;  and  ve- 
ry properly.  On  the  other  hand,  if  the  commander 
in  chief  of  an  army  detach  an  officer  under  him  up- 
on a  particular  service,  which  service  turns  out  more 
difficult,  or  less  expedient,  than  was  supposed,  in  so 
much  that  the  officer  is  convinced  that  his  cammand- 
er,  if  he  were  acquainted  with  the  true  state  in  which 
the  affair  is  found,  would  recal  his  orders,  yet  must 
this  officer,  if  he  cannot  wait  for  fresh  directions, 
without  prejudice  to  the  expedition  he  is  sent  upon, 
pursue,  at  all  hazards,  those  which  he  brought  out 
with  him. 

What  is  trusted  to  an  agent  may  be  lost  or  dam- 
aged in  his  hands  by  misfortune.  An  agent  who  acts 
without  pay  is  clearly  not  answerable  for  the  loss  ; 
for,  If  he  gave  his  labour  for  nothing,  it  cannot  be 
presumed,  that  he  gave  also  security  for  the  success 
of  it.  If  the  agent  be  hired  to  the  business,  the  ques- 
tion will  depend  upon  the  apprehension  of  the  par- 


Connnissiom,  127 

ties  at  the  time  of  making  the  contract ;  which  ap- 
prehension  of  theirs  must  be  collected  chiefly  from 
custom,  by  which  probably  it  was  guided.  Whether 
a  public  carrier  ought  to  account  for  goods  sent  by 
him  ;  the  owner  or  master  of  a  ship  for  the  cargo  ; 
the  post  office  for  letters,  or  bills  inclosed  in  letterSj 
where  the  loss  is  liot  imputed  to  any  fault  or  neglect 
of  theirs  ;  are  questions  of  this  sort.  Any  expres- 
sion, which  by  implication  amounts  to  a  promise^ 
will  be  binding  upon  the  agent  without  custom  ;  as 
where  the  proprietors  of  a  stage-coach  advertise,  that 
they  will  not  be  accountable  for  money,  plate,  or 
jewels,  this  makes  theai  accountable  for  every  thing 
else ;  or  where  the  price  is  too  much  for  the  labour, 
part  cf  it  may  be  considered  as  a  premium  for  insur- 
ance. On  the  other  hand,  any  caution  on  the  part 
of  the  owner  to  guard  against  danger,  is  evidence 
that  he  considers  the  risk  to  be  his  ;  as  cutting  a  bank 
bill  in  two,  to  send  by  the  post  at  different  times. 

Universally,  unless  a  promise,  either  express  or 
tacit,  can  be  proved  against  the  agent,  the  loss  must 
fall  upon  the  owner. 

The  agent  may  be  a  sufferer  in  his  own  person  or 
property  by  the  business  which  he  undertakes  ;  as 
where  one  goes  a  journey  for  another,  and  lames  his 
horse,  or  is  hurt  himself  by  a  fall  upon  the  load  5 
can  the  agent  in  such  case  claim  a  compensation  for 
the  misfortune  ?  Unless  the  same  be  provided  for  by 
express  stipulation,  the  agent  is  not  entitled  to  any 
compensation  from  his  employer  on  that  account  z 
for  where  the  danger  is  not  foreseen,  there  can  be 
no  reason  to  believe,  that  the  employer  engaged  to 
indemnify  the  agent  against  it ;  still  less  where  it 
is  foreseen  :  for  whoever  knowingly  undertakes  a 
dangerous  employment,  in  common  construction 
takes  upon  himself  the  danger  and  the  consequences ; 
as  where  a  fireman  undertakes  for  a  reward  to  risk 
a  box  of  writings  from  the  flames  ;  or  a  sailor  to 
bring  off  a  passenger  from  a  ship  in  a  stormi* 


128  Partnership-. 

CHAPTER  Xlll. 

CONTRACTS  OF  LABOUR. 

PARTNERSHIP. 

I  KNOW  nothing  upon  the  subject  of  partner- 
ship that  requires  explanation,  but  in  what  manner 
the  profits  are  to  be  divided,  where  one  partner  con- 
tributes money  and  the  other  labour ;  which  is  a 
common  case. 

Rule.  From  the  stock  of  the  partnership  deduct 
the  sum  advanced,  and  divide  the  remdinder  between 
the  monied  partner,  and  the  labouring  partner,  in 
the  proportion  of  the  interest  of  the  money  to  the 
wages  of  the  labour,  allowing  such  a  rate  of  interest 
as  money  might  be  borrowed  for  upon  the  same  se- 
curity, and  such  wages  as  a  journeyman  would  re- 
quire for  the  same  labour  and  trust. 

Ex.ample.  A  advances  a  thousand  pounds,  but 
knows  nothing  of  the  business ;  B  produces  no  mon- 
ey, but  has  been  brought  up  to  the  business  and  un- 
dertakes to  conduct  it.  At  the  end  of  the  year  the 
stock  and  the  effects  of  the  partnership  amount  to 
twelve  hundred  pounds  ;  consequently  there  are  two 
hundred  pounds  to  be  divided.  Now  nobody  would 
lend  money  upon  the  event  of  the  business  succeed- 
ing, which  is  A's  security,  under  six  per  cent. — there* 
fore  A  must  be  allowed  sixty  pounds  for  the  interest 
of  his  money.  B,  before  he  engaged  in  the  partner- 
ship, earned  thirty  pounds  a  year  in  the  same  em- 
ployment ;  his  labour,  therefore,  ought  to  be  valued 
at  thirty  pounds  ;  and  the  two  hundred  pounds  must 
be  divided  between  the  partners,  in  the  proportion 
of  sixty  to  thirty  -,  that  is,  A  must  receive  one  hun- 
dred and  thirty- three  pounds  six  shillings  and  eight 
pence,  and  B  sixty-six  pounds  thirteen  shillings  and 
four  pence. 

If  there  be  nothing  gained,  A  loses  his  interest,  and 
B  his  labour,  which  is  right.     If  the  original  stock 


Tdc  diminished,  by  this  rule  B  loses  only  his  labour  as 
before  ;  whereas  A  loses  his  interest,  and  part  of  the 
principal :  for  which  eventual  disadvantage  A  is 
compensated,  by  having  the  interest  of  his  money 
computed  at  six  per  cent,  in  the  division  of  the  prof- 
its, when  there  are  any. 

It  is  true,  that  the  division  of  the  profit  is  seldom 
forgotten  in  the  constitution  of  the  partnership ; 
and  is  therefore  commonly  settled  by  express  agree- 
ments ;  but  these  agreements,  to  be  equitable,  should 
pursue  the  principle  of  the  rule  here  laid  down. 

All  the  partners  are  bound  by  what  any  one  of 
them  does  in  the  course  of  the  business  ;  for,  quoad 
hoc,  each  partner  is  considered  as  an  authorized 
.agent  for  thp  rest. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

CONTRACTS  OF  LABOUR. 
OFFICES. 

In  many  offices,  as  schools,  fellowships  of  col- 
leges, professorships  of  the  universities,  and  the  like^ 
there  is  a  twofold  contract,  one  with  the  founder, 
the  other  with  the  electors. 

The  contract  with  the  founder  obhges  the  incum- 
bent of  the  office  to  discharge  every  duty  appointed 
by  the  charter,  statutes,  deed  of  gift,  or  will  of  the 
founder ;  because  the  endowment  was  given,  and 
consequently  accepted  for  that  purpose,  and  upon 
those  conditions. 

The  contract  with  the  electors  extends  this  obliga- 
tion to  all  duties  that  have  been  customarily  connect- 
ed with  and  reckoned  a  part  of  the  office,  though 
not  prescribed  by  the  founder  :  for  the  electors  ex- 
pect from  the  person  they  choose,  all  the  duties 
i;yhich  his  predecessors  have  discharged  j  and  as  the 


130  Offices. 

person  elected  cannot  be  ignorant  of  their  expecta- 
tion, if  he  meant  to  have  refused  this  condition,  he 
ought  to  have  apprised  them  of  his  objection. 

And  here  let  it  be  observed,  that  the  electors  can 
excuse  the  conscience  of  the  person  elected  from 
this  last  class  of  duties  alone  ;  because  this  class  re- 
sults from  a  co^uract,  to  which  the  electors  and  the 
person  elected  are  the  only  parties.  The  other  class 
of  duties  results  from  a  different  contract. 

It  is  a  question  of  some  inagnitude  and  difficulty, 
what  offices  may  be  conscientiously  supplied  by  a 
deputy. 

We  will  state  the  several  objections  to  the  substi- 
tution of  a  deputy  ;  and  then  it  will  be  understood 
that  a  deputy  may  be  allowed  in  all  cases,  to  which 
these  objections  do  not  apply. 

An  office  may  not  be  discharged  by  deputy, 

1.  Where  a  particular  confidence  is  reposed  in  the 
judgment  and  conduct  of  the  person  appointed  to  it ; 
as  the  office  of  a  steward,  guardian,  judge,  com- 
mander in  chief  by  land  or  sea. 

2.  Where  the  custom  hinders ;  as  in  the  case  of 
schoolmasters,  tutors,  and  of  commissions  in  the 
army  or  navy. 

3.  Where  the  duty  cannot,  from  its  nature,  be  so, 
weir  performed  by  a  deputy  ;  as  the  deputy  govern- 
or of  a  province  may  not  possess  the  legal  authority, 
or  the  actual  influence  of  his  principal. 

4.  When  some  inconveniency  would  result  to  the 
service  in  general  from  the  permission  of  deputies  in 
such  cases  :  for  example,  it  is  probable  that  military 
merit  would  be  much  discouraged,  if  the  duties  be- 
longing to  commissions  in  the  army  were  generally 
allowed  to  be  executed  by  substitutes. 

The  non-residence  of  the  parochial  clergy,  who 
supply  the  duty  of  their  benefices  by  curates,  is 
worthy  of  a  more  distinct  consideration.  And,  in 
order  to  draw  the  question  upon  this  case  to  a  point, 
ive  will  suppose  the  officiating  curate  to  discharge 


Offices.  131 

ey-ery  duty,  which  his  principal,  were  he  present, 
wouJd  be  bound  to  discharge,  and  in  a  manner 
equally  beneficial  to  the  parish  j  under  which  cir- 
cumstances, the  only  objection  to  the  absence  of  the 
principal,  at  least  the  only  one  of  the  foregoing  ob- 
jections, is  the  last. 

And,  in  my  judgment,  the  force  of  this  objection 
will  we  much  diminished,  if  the  absent  rector  or  vic- 
ar be,  in  the  mean  time,  engaged  in  any  function 
or  employment,  of  equal  or  of  greater  importance 
to  the  general  interest  of  religion.  For  the  whole 
revenue  of  the  national  church  may  properly 
enough  be  considered  as  a  common  fund  for  the 
support  of  the  national  religion  j  and  if  a  clergy- 
man be  serving  the  cause  of  Christianity  and  protest- 
antism, it  can  make  little  difference,  out  of  what 
particular  portion  of  this  fund,  that  is,  by  the  tithes 
and  glebe  of  what  particular  parish  his  service  be 
requited  ;  any  more  than  it  can  prejudice  the  king's 
service,  that  an  officer  who  has  signalized  his  merit 
in  America,  should  be  rewarded  with  the  govern- 
ment of  a  fort  or  a  castle  in  Ireland,  which  he  never 
saw  ;  but  for  the  custody  of  which  proper  provision 
is  made,  and  care  taken. 

Upon  the  principle  thus  explained,  this  indul- 
gence is  due  to  none  more  than  to  those  who  are 
occupied  in  cultivating,  or  communicating  religious 
knowledge,  or  the  sciences  subsidiary  to  religion. 

This  way  of  considering  the  revenues  of  the 
church,  as  a  common  fund  for  the  same  purpose,  is 
the  more  equitable,  as  the  value  of  particular  pre- 
ferments bears  no  proportion  to  the  particular 
charge  or  labour. 

But  when  a  man  draws  upon  this  fund,  whose 
studies  and  employments  bear  no  relation  to  the 
object  of  it ;  and  who  is  no  farther  a  minister  of 
the  Christian  religion,  than  as  a  cockade  makes  a 
soldier,  it  seems  a  misapplication  little  better  than 
a  robbery. 


132  Lies. 

And  to  those  who  have  the  management  of  such 
matters,  I  submit  this  question,  whether  the  impov- 
erishment of  the  fund,  by  converting  the  best  share 
of  it  into  annuities  for  the  gay  and  illiterate  youth  of 
great  families,  threatens  not  to  starve  and  stifle  the 
little  clerical   merit  that  is  left  amongst  us  ? 

All  legal  dispensations  from  residence  proceed  up- 
on the  supposition,  that  the  absentee  is  detained 
from  his  living,  by  some  engagement  of  equal  or  of 
greater  public  importance.  Therefore,  if  in  a  case, 
where  no  such  reason  can  with  truth  be  pleaded,  it 
be  said,  that  this  question  regards  a  right  of  proper- 
ty ,and  that  all  right  of  property  awaits  the  disposi- 
tion of  law  ;  that,  therefore,  if  the  law,  which  gives 
a  man  the  emoluments  of  a  living,  excuse  him  from 
residing  upon  it,  he  is  excused  in  conscience ;  we 
answer,  that  the  law  does  not  excuse  him  by  intention, 
and  that  all  other  excuses  are  fraudulent. 


CHAPTER  XV, 
LIES. 

A  LIE  is  a  breach  of  promise ;  for  whoever 
seriously  addresses  his  discourse  to  another,  tacitly 
promises  to  speak  the  truth,  because  he  knows  that 
the  truth  is  expected. 

Or  the  obligation  of  veracity  may  be  made  out 
from  the  direct  ill  consequences  of  lying  to  social 
happiness.  Which  consequences  consist,  either  in 
some  specific  injury  to  particular  individuals,  or  in  the 
destruction  of  that  confidence,  which  is  essential  to  the 
intercourse  of  human  life  :  for  which  latter  reason, 
a  lie  may  be  pernicious  in  its  general  tendency,  and 
therefore  criminal,  though  it  produce  no  particular 
or  visible  mischief  to  any  one. 


Lies.  133 

There  are  falsehoods  which  are  not  lies  ;  that  is, 
which  are  not  criminal ;  as, 

1 .  Where  no  one  is  deceived  ;  which  is  the  case 
in  parables,  fables,  novels,  jests,  tales  to  create  mirth, 
ludicrous  embellishments  of  a  story,  where  the  de- 
clared design  of  the  speaker  is  not  to  inform,  but  to 
divert ;  compliments  in  the  subscription  of  a  letter, 
a  servant's  denying  his  master,  a  prisoner's  pleading  not 
guilty,  an  advocate  asserting  the  justice,  or  his  belief 
of  the  justice  of  his  client's  cause.  In  such  instances, 
no  confidence  is  destroyed,  because  none  was  repos- 
ed ;  no  promise  to  speak  the  truth  is  violated,  because 
none  was  given,  or  understood  to  be  given. 

2.  Where  the  person  to  whom  you  speak  has  no 
right  to  know  the  truth,  or  more  properly,  where 
little  or  no  inconveniency  results  from  the  want  of 
confidence  in  such  cases;  as  where  you  tell  a  falsehood 
to  a  madman,  for  his  own  advantage  ;  to  a  robber, 
to  conceal  your  property  ;  to  an  assassin,  to  defeat, 
or  to  divert  him  from,  his  purpose.  The  particular 
consequence  is  by  the  supposition  beneficial ;  and  as 
to  the  general  consequence,  the  worst  that  can  hap- 
pen is,  that  the  madman,  the  robber,  the  assassin, 
will  not  trust  you  again ;  which  (beside  that  the  first 
is  incapable  of  deducing  regular  conclusions  from 
having  been  once  deceived,  and  the  two  last  not  like- 
ly to  come  a  second  time  in  your  way)  is  sufficiently 
compensated  by  the  immediate  benefit  which  you 
propose  by  the  falsehood. 

It  is  upon  this  principle,  that,  by  the  laws  of  war, 
it  is  allowed  to  deceive  an  enemy  by  feints,  false  col- 
ours,* spies,  false  intelligence,  and  the  like  ;  but,  by 
no  means,  in  treaties,  truces,  signals  of  capitulation, 

*  There  have  been  two  or  three  instances  of  late,of  Enghah  ships  decoying 
an  enemy  into  their  power,  by  counterfeiting  signals  of  distress;  an  artifice 
which  ought  to  be  reprobated  by  the  common  indignation  of  mankind  :  for 
a  few  examples  of  captures  effected  by  this  stratagem,  would  put  and  end  to 
that  promptitude  in  affording  assistance  to  ships  in  distress,  which  is  the 
best  virtue  in  a  seafaring  c  haracter,  and  by  which  the  perils  of  navigation 
are  diminished  to  all.    A.  D.  1775. 


1 34  Lies. 

or  surrender ;  and  the  difference  is,  that  the  former 
suppose  hostilities  to  continue,  the  latter  are  calcula- 
ted to  terminate  or  suspend  them.  In  the  conduct  of 
war,  and  whilst  the  war  continues,  there  is  no  use,  or 
rather  no  place  for  confidence,  betwixt  the  contend- 
ing parties  ;  but  in  whatever  relates  to  the  tennination 
of  war,  the  most  religious  fidelity  is  expected,  because 
without  it  wars  could  not  cease,  nor  the  victors  be  se- 
cure, but  by  the  entire  destruction  of  the  vanquished. 

Many  people  indulge  in  serious  discourse  a  habit 
of  fiction  and  exaggeration,  in  the  accounts  they  give 
of  themselves,  of  their  acquaintance,  or  of  the  extra- 
ordinary things  which  they  have  seen  or  heard  \ 
and  so  long  as  the  facts  they  relate  are  indifferent, 
and  their  narratives,  though  false,  are  inoffensive,  it 
may  seem  a  superstitious  regard  to  truth,  to  censure 
them  merely  for  truth's  sake. 

In  the  first  place,  it  is  almost  impossible  to  pro- 
nounce beforehand,  with  certainty,  concerning  any 
lie,  that  it  is  inoffensive.  Volat  irrevocabile  ;  and  col- 
lects sometimes  accretions  in  its  flight,  which  entire- 
ly change  its  nature.  It  may  owe  possibly  its  mis- 
chief to  the  ofliciousness  or  misrepresentation  of  those 
who  circulate  it  ;  but  the  mischief  is,  nevertheless,  in 
some  degree,  chargeable  upon  the  original  editor. 

In  the  next  place,  this  liberty  in  conversation  de- 
feats it  own  end.  Much  of  the  pleasure,  and  all  the 
benefit  of  conversation,  depends  upon  our  opinion  of 
the  speaker's  veracity  ;  for  which  this  rule  leaves  no 
foundation.  The  faith  indeed  of  a  hearer  must  be 
extremely  perplexed,  who  considers  the  speaker,  or 
believes  that  the  speaker  considers  himself,  as  under 
no  obligation  to  adhere  to  truth,  but  according  to 
the  particular  importance  of  what  he  relates. 

But  beside  and  above  both  these  reasons,  white  lies 
always  introduce  others  of  a  darker  complexion.  I 
h?ve  seldom  known  any  one  who  deserted  truth  in  tri- 
fles, that  could  be  trusted  in  matters  of  importance. 


Liesr  135 

Nice  distinctions  are  oat  of  the  question,  upon  occa- 
sions,  which,  Hke  those  of  speech,  return  every  hour. 
The  habit,  therefore,  of  lying,  when  once  formed, 
is  easily  extended  to  serve  the  designs  of  malice  or 
interest ;   like  all  habits,  it  spreads  indeed  of  itself. 

Pious  frauds,  as  they  are  improperly  enough  call- 
ed, pretended  inspirations,  forged  books,  counterfeit 
miracles,  are  impositions  of  a  more  serious  nature. 
It  is  possible  that  they  may  sometimes,  though 
seldom,  have  been  set  up  and  encouraged,  with  a 
design  to  do  good  ;  but  the  good  they  aim  at,  re- 
quires that  the  belief  of  them  should  be  perpetual, 
which  is  hardly  possible ;  and  the  detection  of  the 
fraud  is  sure  to  disparage  the  credit  of  all  pretensions 
of  the  same  nature.  Christianity  has  suffered  more 
injury  from  this  cause,  than  from  all  other  causes  put 
together. 

As  there  may  be  falsehoods  which  are  not  lies,  so 
there  may  be  lies  without  literal  or  direct  falsehood. 
An  opening  is  always  left  for  this  species  of  prevan» 
cation,  when  the  literal  and  grammatical  significa- 
tion of  a  sentence  is  different  from  the  popular  and 
customary  meaning.  It  is  the  wilful  deceit  that 
makes  the  lie ;  and  we  wilfully  deceive,  when 
our  expressions  are  not  true  in  the  sense  in  which  we 
believe  the  hearer  to  apprehend  them.  Besides,  it  is 
absurd  to  contend  for  any  sense  of  words,  in  oppo- 
sition to  usage,  for  all  senses  of  all  words  are  found- 
ed upon  usage,  and  upon  nothing  else. 

Or  a  man  may  act  a  lie  ;  as  by  pointing  his  fin- 
ger in  a  wrong  direction,  when  a  traveller  inquires  of 
him  his  road  ;  or  when  a  tradesman  shuts  up  his 
windows,  to  induce  his  creditors  to  believe  that 
he  is  abroad  :  for  to  all  moral  purposes,  and  there- 
fore as  to  veracity,  speech  and  action  are  the  same ; 
speech  being  only  a  mode  of  action. 

Or,  lastly,  there  may  be  lies  of  omission.  A  writer 
of  English  history,  who,  in  his  account  of  the  reign 


136  Oatbs. 

of  Charles  the  First,  should  wilfully  suppress  any 
evidence  of  that  prince's  despotic  measures  and  de- 
signs, might  be  said  to  lie  ;  for,  by  entitling  his  book 
a  History  of  England^  he  engages  to  relate  the  whole 
truth  of  the  history,  or,  at  least,  all  that  he  knows 
of  it. 


CHAPTER  XVL. 
OATHS. 

I.    Forms  of  Oaths. 

II.  Signifcation. 

III.  Lawfulness. 

IV.  Obligation, 

V.  What  Oaths  do  not  bind. 

VI.  In  what  sense  Oaths  are  to  be  interpreted. 

I.  The  forms  of  oaths,  like  other  religious  cere- 
monies, have  in  all  ages  been  various  ;  but  consisting, 
for  the  most  part,  of  some  bodily  action,*  and  of  a 
prescribed  form  of  words.  Amongst  the  Jews,  the 
juror  held  up  his  right-hand  towards  heaven,  which 
explains  a  passage  in  the  cxliv//?  Psalm — "  Whose 
mouth  speaketh  vanity,  and  their  right-hand  is  a  right- 
hand  of  falsehood.^*  The  same  form  is  retained  in  Scot- 
land still.  Amongst  th«  same  Jews,  an  oath  of  fidel- 
ity was  taken,  by  the  servant's  putting  his  hand  un- 
der the  thigh  of  his  lord,  as  Eleazer  did  to  Abraham^ 
Gen,  xxiv.  2.  from  whence,  with  no  great  variation, 
is  derived  perhaps  the  form  of  doing  homage  at  this 
day,  by  putting  the  hands  between  the  knees,  and 
within  the  hands  of  the  liege. 

*  It  is  commonly  thought  that  oaths  are  denominated  ir?r/ior<z/  oaths, from 
the  bodily  action  which  accompanies  them,  of  laying  the  right-hand  upon  a 
book  containing  the  four  Gospels.  This  opinion,  however,  appears  to  he  a 
mistake;  for  the  term  is  borrowed  from  the  ancient  usage  of  touching,  upon 
these  occasions,the  corporaU,  or  cloth  which  covered  the  consecrated  elements. 


Oaths.  137 

Amongst  the  Greeks'  and  Romans,  the  form  varied 
with  the  subject  and  occasion  of  the  oath.  In  pri- 
vate contracts,  the  parties  took  hold  of  each  other's 
hand,  whilst  they  swore  to  the  performance  ;  or  they 
touched  the  alter  of  the  god,  by  whose  divinity  they 
swore.  Upon  more  solemn  occasions  it  was  the  cus- 
tom to  slay  a  victim  ;  and  the  beast  being  struck  down, 
with  certain  ceremonies  and  invocations,  gave  birth 
to  the  expressions  ret^vm  o^ko^  ferire pactum  ;  and  to  our 
English  phrase,  translated  from  these,  of  "  striking  a 
bargain." 

The  forms  of  oaths  in  Christian  countries  are  also 
very  different ;  but  in  no  country  in  the  world,  I  be- 
lieve, worse  contrived,  either  to  convey  the  meaning, 
or  impress  the  obligation  of  an  oath,  than  in  our 
own.  The  juror  with  us,  after  repeating  the  prom- 
ise, or  affirmation,  which  the  oath  is  intended  to 
confirm,  adds,  "  so  help  me  God  ;"  or  more  fre- 
quently the  substance  of  the  oath  is  repeated  to  the 
juror,  by  the  officer  or  magistrate  who  administers  it, 
adding  in  the  conclusion,  "  so  help  you  God."  The 
energy  of  the  sentence  resides  in  the  particle  so  ;  so, 
that  is,  hdc  lege,  upon  condition  of  my  speaking  the 
truth,  or,  performing  this  promise,  and  not  other- 
v/ise,  may  God  help  me.  The  juror,  whilst  he  hears 
or  repeats  the  words  of  the  oath,  holds  his  right-hand 
upon  a  Bible,  or  other  book,  containing  the  four 
Gospels.  The  conclusion  of  the  oath  sometimes  runs, 
*'  ita  me  Deus  adjuvet,  et  hgec  sancta  evangelia,"  or 
"  so  help  me  God,  and  the  contents  of  this  book  ;'* 
which  last  clause  forms  a  connexion  between  the 
words  and  action  of  the  juror,  that  before  was  want- 
ing. The  juror  then  kisses  the  book  :  the  kiss,  how- 
ever, seems  rather  an  act  of  reverence  to  the  contents 
of  the  book,  as,  in  the  popish  ritual,  the  priest  kisses 
the  Gospel  before  he  reads  it,  than  any  part  of  the 
oath. 

This  obscure  and  elliptical  form,  together  with  the 
levity  and  frequency  with  which  it  is  administered. 


1 38  Oaths. 

has  brought  about  a  general  inadvertency  to  the  obli- 
gation of  oaths,  which,  both  in  a  religious  and  polit- 
ical view,  is  much  to  be  lamented  ;  and  it  merits 
public  consideration,  whether  the  requiring  of  oaths 
on  so  many  frivolous  occasions,  especially  in  the  cus- 
toms, and  in  the  qualification  for  petty  offices,  has 
any  other  effect,  than  to  make  them  cheap  in  the 
minds  of  the  people.  A  pound  of  tea  cannot  travel 
regularly  from  the  ship  to  the  consumer,  without 
costing  half  a  dozen  oaths  at  the  least  ;  and  the  same 
security  for  the  due  discharge  of  their  office,  namely, 
that  of  an  oath  is  required  from  a  church- warden 
and  an  arch-bishop,  from  a  petty  constable  and  the 
chief  justice  of  England.  Let  the  law  continue  its 
own  sanctions,  if  they  be  thought  requisite  ;  but  let  it 
spare  the  solemnity  of  an  oath.  And  where,  from  the 
want  of  something  better  to  depend  upon,  it  is  ne- 
cessary to  accept  men's  own  word  or  own  account,  let 
it  annex  to  prevarication  penalties  proportioned  to 
the  public  mischief  of  the  offence. 

II.  But  whatever  be  the  form  of  an  oath,  the  sig- 
nification is  the  same.  It  is  "  the  calling  upon  God 
to  witness,  i.  e,  to  take  notice  of  vi^hat  we  say  ;  and  it 
is  invoking  his  vengeance,  or  renouncing  his  favour, 
if  what  we  say  be  false,  or  what  we  promise  be  not 
performed,'* 

III.  Quakers  and  Moravians  refuse  to  swear  upon 
any  occasion  ;  founding  their  scruples  concerning  the 
lawfulness  of  oaths  upon  our  Saviour's  prohibition, 
Matth,  V.  34.  "  I  say  unto  you,  swear  not  at  all." 

The  answer  which  we  give  to  this  objection  can- 
not be  understood,  without  first  stating  the  whole 
passage ,  "  Ye  have  heard  that  it  hath  been  said  by 
them  of  old  time,  thou  shalt  not  forswear  thyself,  but 
shalt  perform  unto  the  Lord  thine  oaths  :  but  I  say 
unto  you,  swear  not  at  all ;  neither  by  heaven,  for  it 
is  God's  throne  ;  nor  by  the  earth,  for  it  is  his  foot- 
stool ;  neither  by  Jerusalem.)  for  it  is  the  city  of  the 


Oaths.  139 

great  King  ;  neither  shalt  thou  swear  by  thy  head, 
because  thou  canst  not  make  one  hair  white  or 
black :  but  let  your  communication  be  yea  yea,  nay 
nay,  for  whatsoever  is  more  than  these  cometh  of 
evil.'* 

To  reconcile  with  this  passage  of  scripture  the 
practice  of  swearing,  or  of  taking  oaths,  when  re- 
quired by  law,  the  following  observations  must  be 
attended  to. 

1.  It  does  not  appear,  that  swearing  "  by  heaven,'* 
"  by  the  earth,"  "  by  Jerusakm^'^  or  "  by  their  own 
head,"  was  a  form  of  swearing  ever  made  use  of 
amongst  the  Jezvs  in  judicial  oath  :  and  consequent- 
ly, it  is  not  probable  that  they  were  judicial  oaths, 
which  Christ  had  in  his  mind  when  he  mentioned 
those  instances. 

2,  As  to  the  seeming  universality  of  the  prohibi- 
tion, "  swear  not  at  all,"  the  emphatic  clause  "  not 
at  all,"  is  to  be  read  in  connexion  with  what  fol- 
lows ;  "  not  at  all,"  i.  e.  neither  "  by  the  heaven," 
nor  "  by  the  earth,"  nor  "  by  Jerusalem^^  nor  "by 
thy  head  ;"  "  not  at  all^^  does  not  mean  upon  no  oc- 
casion, but  by  none  of  these  forms.  Our  Saviour's 
argument  seems  to  suppose,  that  the  people  to  whom 
he  spake,  made  a  distinction  between  swearing  di- 
rectly by  "  the  name  of  God,"  and  swearing  by  those 
inferior  objects  of  veneration,  "  the  heavens,"  "  the 
earth,"  "  Jerusalem^"  or  "  their  own  head."  In  op^R 
position  to  which  distinction  he  tells  them,  that,  on 
account  of  the  relation  which  these  things  bore  to 
the  Supreme  Being,  to  swear  by  any  of  them,  was  in 
effect  and  substance  to  swear  by  him  ;  *'  by  heaven, 
for  it  is  his  throne  ;  by  the  earth,  for  it  is  his  foot- 
stool ;  by  Jerusalem^  for  it  is  the  city  of  the  great 
King  ;  by  thy  head,  for  it  is  his  workmanship,  not 
thine,  thou  canst  not  make  one  hair  white  or  black  :" 
for  which  reason  he  says,  "  swear  not  at  all^'^  that  is, 
neither  directly  by  God,  nor  indirectly  by  any  thing 
related  to  him.     This  interpretation  is  greatly  con- 


140  Oaths. 

firmed,  by  a  passage  in  the  twenty-third  chapter 
of  the  same  Gospel,  where  a  similar  distinction, 
made  by  the  Scribes  and  Pharisees,  is  replied  to  in 
the  same  manner. 

3.  Our  Saviour  himself  being  "  adjured  by  the 
living  God,"  to  declare  whether  he  was  the  Christ, 
the  Son  of  God,  or  not,  condescended  to  answer  the 
high  priest,  without  making  any  objection  to  the 
oath  (for  such  it  was)  upon  which  he  examined 
him.  "  God  is  my  witness,^*  says  St.  Paul  to  the  Ro- 
mans^ "  that  without  ceasing  I  make  mention  of  you 
in  my  prayers :"  and  to  the  Corinthians  still  more 
strongly,  "  I  call  God  for  a  record  upon  my  soul,  that  to 
spare  you,  I  came  not  as  yet  to  Corinth.'*  Both  these 
expressions  contain  the  nature  of  oaths.  The  epistle 
to  the  Hebrews  speaks  of  the  custom  of  swearing 
judicially,  without  any  mark  of  censure  or  disap- 
probation :  "  Men  verily  swear  by  the  greater,  and 
an  oath,  for  confirmation,  is  to  them  an  end  of  all 
strife." 

Upon  the  strength  of  these  reasons,  we  explain 
our  Saviour's  words  to  relate,  not  to  judicial  oaths, 
but  to  the  practice  of  vain,  wanton,  and  unauthoriz- 
ed swearing,  in  common  discourse,  St.  James* 
words,  chap.  v.  12.  are  not  so  strong  as  our  Sa- 
viour's, and  therefore  admit  the  same  explanation 
with  more  ease. 

IV.  Oaths  are  nugatory,  that  is,  carry  with  them 
no  proper  force  or  obligation,  unless  we  believe,  that 
God  will  punish  false  swearing  with  more  severity 
than  a  simple  lie,  or  breach  of  promise ;  for  which 
belief  there  are  the  following  reasons  : 

I.  Perjury  is  a  sin  of  greater  dehberation.  The 
juror  has  the  thought  of  God  and  of  religion  upon 
his  mind  at  the  time  ;  at  leasts  there  are  very  few 
who  can  shake  them  off  entirely.  He  offends,  there- 
fore, if  he  do  offend,  with  a  high  hand,  in  the  face, 
that  is,  in  defiance  of  the  sanctions  of  religion.  His 
offence    implies  a  disbelief   or  contempt  of   God's 


Oaths*  141 

knowledge,  power,  and  justice,  which  cannot  be  said 
of  a  lie,  where  there  is  nothing  to  carry  the  mind  to 
any  reflection  upon  the  Deity,  or  the  divine  attri- 
butes at  all. 

2.  Perjury  violates  a  superior  confidence.  Man- 
kind must  trust  to  one  another  ;  and  they  have  noth- 
ing better  to  trust  to  than  one  another's  oath.  Hence 
legal  adjudications,  which  govern  and  affect  every 
right  and  interest  on  this  side  the  grave,  of  necessity 
proceed  and  depend  upon  oaths.  Perjury,  therefore, 
in  its  general  consequence,  strikes  at  the  security  of 
reputation,  property,  and  even  of  life  itself.  A  lie 
cannot  do  the  same  mischief,  because  the  same  credit 
is  not  given  to  it.* 

3.  God  directed  the  Israelites  to  swear  by  his 
name  ;t  and  was  pleased,  "  in  order  to  show  the  im- 
mutability of  his  own  counsel,"J  to  confirm  his^cov- 
enant  with  that  people  by  an  oath  :  neither  of  which 
it  is  probable  he  would  have  done,  had  he  not  in- 
tended to  represent  oaths,  as  having  some  meaning 
and  effect,  beyond  the  obligation  of  a  bare  promise  ; 
which  effect  must  be  owing  to  the  severer  punishment 
with  which  he  will  vindicate  the  authority  of  oaths. 

V.  Promissory  oaths  are  not  bindings  where  the 
promise  itself  would  not  be  so  :  for  the  several  cases 
of  which,  see  the  Chapter  of  Promises. 

VI.  As  oaths  are  designed  for  the  security  of  the 
imposer,  it  is  manifest  they  must  be  interpreted^  and 
performed  in  the  sense  in  which  the  imposer  intends 
them ;  otherwise,  they  afford  no  security  to  him. 
And  this  is  the  meaning  and  reason  of  the  rule,  *' ju- 
rare  in  animum  imponentis  ;"  which  rule  the  reader 
is  desired  to  carry  along  with  him,  whilst  we  pro- 
ceed to  consider  certain  particular  oaths,  which  are 
either  of  great  importance,  or  more  likely  to  fall 
in  our  way  than  others. 

*  Except,  indeed.where  a  Quaker's  or  Moravian's  affirmation  is  accepted 
in  the  place  of  an  oath  ;  in  which  case,  a  lie  partakes,  so  far  as  this  reason 
extends,  of  the  nature  and  guilt  of  perjury. 

t  Deut.  vi.  13.  X.  SO.  i  Hcb.  vi.  17. 


142  Oath  in  Evidence. 

CHAPTER     XVII. 
OATH   IN  EVIDENCE. 

1  HE  witness  swears,  "  to  speak  the  truth,  the 
whole  truth,  and  nothing  but  the  truth,  touching  the 
matter  in  question.'* 

Upon  which  it  may  be  observed,  that  the  design- 
ed concealment  of  any  truth,  which  relates  to  the 
matter  in  agitation,  is  as  much  a  violation  of  the 
oath,  as  to  testify  a  positive  falsehood  ;  and  this 
whether  the  witness  be  interrogated  to  that  particular 
point  or  not.  For,  when  the  person  to  be  exam- 
ined is  sworn  upon  a  voir  dire,  that  is,  in  order  to 
inquire,  whether  he  ought  to  be  admitted  to  give 
evidence  in  the  cause  at  all,  the  form  runs  thus  : 
"  You  shall  true  answer  make  to  all  such  questions 
as  shall  be  asked  you  ;"  but  when  he  comes  to  be 
sworn  in  chief,  he  swears  "  to  speak  the  whole  truth,*' 
without  restraining  it,  as  before,  to  the  questions 
that  shall  be  asked  :  which  difference  shews,  that 
the  law  intends,  in  this  latter  case,  to  require  of  the 
witness,  that  he  give  a  complete  and  unreserved  ac- 
count of  what  he  knows  of  the  subject  of  the  trial, 
whether  the  questions  proposed  to  him  reach  the 
extent  of  his  knowledge  or  not.  So  that  if  it  be 
inquired  of  a  witness  afterwards,  why  he  did  not 
inform  the  court  so  and  so,  it  is  not  a  sufficient, 
though  a  very  common  answer,  to  say,  "  because  it 
was  never  asked  me." 

I  know  but  one  exception  to  this  rule  ;  which  is, 
when  a  full  discovery  of  the  truth  tends  to  accuse  the 
witness  himself  of  some  legal  crime.  The  law  of  Ejig- 
land  constrains  no  man  to  become  his  own  accuser  ; 
consequently,  imposes  the  oath  of  testimony  with 
this  tacit  reservation.  But  the  exception  must  be 
confined  to  Icgcd  crimes.  A  point  ot  honour,  of  del- 
icacy, or  of  reputation,  may  make  a  witness  back- 
ward to  disclose  some  circumstance  with  which  he  is 


Oath  of  Allegiance.  14S 

acquainted  ;  but  will  in  no  wise  justify  his  conceal- 
ment of  the  truth,  unless  it  could  be  shewn,  that  the 
law  which  imposes  the  oath,  intended  to  allow  this 
indulgence  to  such  motives.  The  exception  of 
which  we  are  speaking  is  also  withdrawn  by  a  com- 
*pact  between  the  magistrate  and  the  witness,  when 
an  accomplice  is  admitted  to  give  evidence  against 
the  partners  of  his  crime. 

Tenderness  to  the  prisoner,  although  a  specious 
apology  for  concealment,  is  no  just  excuse  ;  for,  if 
this  plea  be  thought  sufficient,  it  takes  the  adminis- 
tration of  penal  justice  out  of  the  hands  of  judges 
and  juries,  and  makes  it  depend  upon  the  temper  of 
prosecutors  and  witnesses. 

Questions  may  be  asked  which  are  irrelative  to  the 
cause,  which  affect  the  witness  himself,  or  some  third 
person  ;  in  vs?hich,  and  in  all  cases,  where  the  witness 
doubts  of  the  pertinency  and  propriety  of  the  ques= 
tion,  he  ought  to  refer  his  doubts  to  the  court. 
The  answer  of  the  court,  in  relaxation  of  the  oath, 
is  authority  enough  to  the  witness  :  for  the  law 
which  imposes  the  oath  may  remit  what  it  will  of  the 
obligation  ;  and  it  belongs  to  the  court  to  declare 
what  the  mind  of  the  law  is.  Nevertheless,  it  can- 
not be  said  universally,  that  the  answer  of  the  court 
is  conclusive  upon  the  conscience  of  the  witness  ;  for 
his  obligation  depends  upon  what  he  apprehended, 
at  the  time  of  taking  the  oath,  to  be  the  design  of  the 
law  in  imposing  it :  and  no  after  requisition  or  ex- 
planation by  the  court  can  carry  the  obligation  be» 
vond  that. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 
OATH  OF  ALLEGIANCE. 

'  1  DO  sincerely  promise,  and  swear,  that  I  will 
be  faithful  and  bear  true  allegiance  to  his  Majesty 
King  Geop.ge."     Formerly  the  oath  of  allegiance  ran 

T 


144  Oath  of  Allegiance. 

thus :  "  I  do  promise  to  be  true  and  faithful  to  the  King 
and  his  heirs,  and  truth  and  faith  to  bear,  of  life,  and 
limb,  and  terrene  honour ;  and  not  to  know  or  hear 
of  any  ill  or  damage  intended  him,  without  defend- 
ing him  therefrom  :"  and  was  altered  at  the  Revolu- 
tion to  the  present  form.  So  that  the  present  oath 
Is  a  relaxation  of  the  old  one.  And  as  the  oath  was 
intended  to  ascertain,  not  so  much  the  extent  of  the 
subject*s  obedience,  as  the  person  to  whom  it  was 
due,  the  legislature  seems  to  have  wrapped  up  its 
meaning  upon  the  former  point,  in  a  word  purposely 
made  choice  of  for  its  general  and  indeterminate  sig- 
nification. 

It  will  be  most  convenient  to  consider,  first,  what 
the  oath  excludes,  as  inconsistent  with  it :  secondly, 
what  it  permits. 

1.  The  oath  excludes  all  intention  to  support  the 
claim  or  pretensions  of  any  other  person  or  persons, 
to  the  crown  and  government,  than  the  reigning 
sovereign.  A  Jacohite^  who  is  persuaded  of  the  Pre- 
tender^ s  right  to  the  crovs^n,  and  who  moreover  de- 
signs to  join  with  the  adherents  of  that  cause,  to  assert 
this  right,  whenever  a  proper  opportunity,  with  a 
reasonable  prospect  of  success,  presents  itself,  cannot 
take  the  oath  of  allegiance  ;  or,  if  he  could,  the  oath 
of  alijuration  follow-:,  which  contains  an  express  re- 
Duuciation  of  all  opinions  in  favour  of  the  claim  of 
ihe  exiled  family. 

2.  The  oalh  excludes  all  design  at  the  time,  of  at- 
tempting to  depose  the  reigning  prince,  for  any  rea- 
son whatever.  Let  the  justice  of  the  Revolution  be 
what  it  would,  no  honest  man  could  have  taken 
even  the  present  oath  of  allegiance  to  James  the  Sec- 
ond, who  entertained  at  the  time  of  taking  it,  a  de- 

'    siqn  <"f  joining  in  the  measures  which  were  entered 
into  to  dethrone  him. 

3.  The  oath  forbids  tlie  taking  up  of  arms  against 
the  reigning  prince,  with  views  of  private  advance- 
ment, or  from  motives  of  personal  resentment  or  dis- 
like.    It  is  possible  to  happen  in  this,  what  frequent- 


Oaih  of  Allegiance.  145 

ly  happens  in  despotic  governments,  that  an  ambi- 
tious general,  at  the  head  of  the  military  force  of  the 
nation,  might,  by  a  conjuncture  of  fortunate  circum- 
stances, and  a  great  ascendency  over  the  minds  of 
the  soldiery,  depose  the  prince  upon  the  throne,  and 
make  way  to  it  for  himself,  or  for  some  creature  of 
his  own.  A  person  in  this  situation  would  be  with- 
held from  such  an  attempt  by  the  oath  of  allegiance, 
if  he  paid  regard  to  it.  If  there  were  any  who  en- 
gaged in  the  rebellion  of  the  year  forty-five,  with 
the  expectation  of  titles,  estates,  or  preferment ;  or 
because  they  were  disappointed,  and  thought  them- 
selves neglected  and  ill  used  at  court ;  or  because  they 
entertained  a  family  animosity,  or  personal  resent- 
ment against  the  king,  the  favourite,  or  the  minister ; 
if  any  were  induced  to  take  up  arms  by  these  mo- 
tives, they  added  to  the  many  crimes  of  an  unpro- 
voked rebellion,  that  of  wilful  and  corrupt  perjury. 
If,  in  the  late  American  war,  the  same  motives  deter- 
mined others  to  connect  themselves  with  that  oppo- 
sition, their  part  in  it  was  chargeable  with  perfidy 
and  falsehood  to  their  oath,  whatever  was  the  justice 
of  the  opposition  itself,  or  however  well  founded 
their  own  complaints  might  be  of  private  injury. 

We  are  next  to  consider,  what  the  oath  of  allegi- 
ance permits,  or  does  not  require. 

] .  It  permits  resistance  to  the  king,  when  his  ill 
behaviour,  or  imbecility  is  such,  as  to  make  resistance 
beneficial  to  the  community.  It  may  fairly  be  pre- 
sumed, that  the  convention  parliament,  which  intro- 
duced the  oath  in  its  present  form,  did  not  intend, 
by  imposing  it,  to  exclude  all  resistance ;  since  the 
members  of  that  legislature  had  many  of  them  re- 
cently taken  up  arms  against  James  the  Second :  and 
the  very  authority  by  which  they  sat  together,  was 
itself  the  effect  of  a  successful  opposition  to  an  ac- 
knowledged sovereign.  Some  resistance,  therefore, 
was  meant  to  be  allowed  ;  and,  if  any,  it  must  be 
that  which  has  the  public  interest  for  its  object. 


146  Oath  against  Bribery, 

2.  The  oath  does  not  require  obedience  to  such 
commands  of  the  king,  as  are  unauthorized  by  law. 
No  such  obedience  is  impHed  by  the  terms  of  the 
oath  :  the  fidelity  there  promised,  is  intended  of  fidel- 
ity in  opposition  to  his  enemies,  and  not  in  opposition, 
to  law  \  and  allegiance^  at  the  utmost,  can  only  signi- 
fy obedience  to  lawful  commands.  Therefore,  if 
the  king  should  issue  a  proclamation,  levying  money, 
or  imposing  any  service  or  restraint  upon  the  subject, 
beyond  what  the  crown  is  im})owered  by  law  to  en- 
join, there  would  exist  no  sort  of  obligation  to  obey 
such  a  proclamation,  in  consequence  of  having  taken 
the  oath  of  allegiance. 

3.  The  oath  docs  not  require  that  we  should  con= 
tinue  our  allegiance  to  the  king,  after  he  is  actually 
and  absolutely  deposed,  driven  into  exile,  carried 
away  captive,  or  otherwise  rendered  incapable  of  ex- 
ercising the  regal  office,  whether  by  his  fault  or 
without  it.  The  promise  of  allegiance  implies,  and 
is  understood  by  all  parties  to  suppose,  that  the  person 
to  whom  the  promise  is  made  continues  king  ;  contin- 
ues, that  is,  to  exercise  the  power  and  afford  the  pro- 
tection, Vi^hich  belongs  to  the  office  of  king  :  for  it  is 
the  possession  of  this  power,  which  makes  such  a  par- 
ticular person  the  object  of  the  oath  ;  without  it, 
why  should  I  swear  allegiance  to  this  man,  rather 
than  to  any  man  in  the  kingdom  ?  Beside  which,  the 
contrary  doctrine  is  burthened  with  this  consequence, 
that  every  conquest,  revolution  of  government,  or 
disaster  which  befals  the  person  of  the  prince,  must  be 
followed  by  perpetual  and  irremediable  anarchy, 

CHAPTER     XIX, 

OATH  AGAINST  BRIBERY  IN  THE  ELEC^ 
TION  OF  MEMBERS  OF  PARLIAMENT. 

1  DO   swear   I  have   not   received,  or   had, 
by  myself,  or  any  person  whatsoever,  in  trust  for  me^ 


Oath  against  S'unony,  147 

or  for  my  use  and  benefif,  directly  or  Indirectly,  any 
sum  or  sums  of  money,  office,  place,  or  employment, 
gift,  or  reward,  or  any  promise  or  security  for  any 
money,  office,  employment,  or  gift,  in  order  to 
give  my  vote  at  this  election." 

The  several  contrivances  to  evade  this  oath,  such 
as  the  electors  accepting  money  under  colour  of  bor- 
rowing it,  and  giving  a  promisory  note,  or  other  secu- 
rity for  it,  which  is  cancelled  after  the  election  ;  re- 
ceiving money  from  a  stranger,  or  a  person  in  dis- 
guise, or  out  of  a  drawer,  or  purse,  left  open  for  the 
purpose  ;  or  promises  of  money  to  be  paid  after  the 
election  ;  or  stipulating  for  a  place,  living,  or  other 
private  advantage  of  any  kind  ;  if  they  escape  the 
legal  penalties  of  perjury,  incur  the  moral  guilt :  for 
they  are  manifestly  within  the  mischief  and  design 
of  the  statute  which  imposes  the  oath  ;  and  within 
the  terms,  indeed,  of  the  oath  itself;  for  the  word 
"  indirectly"  is  inserted  on  purpose  to  comprehend 
such  cases  as  these. 


CHAPTER  XX. 
OATH  AGAINST  SIMONY. 

X*  ROM  an  imaginary  resemblance  between  the 
purchase  of  a  benefice  and  Simon  Magus*  attempt  to 
purchase  the  gift  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  Acts  viii.  19, 
the  obtaining  of  ecclesiastical  preferment  by  pecunia- 
ry considerations  has  been  called  Simony. 

The  sale  of  advowsons  is  inseparable  from  the  al- 
lowance of  private  patronage  ;  as  patronage  would 
otherwise  devolve  to  the  most  indigent,  and,  for  that 
reason,  the  most  improper  hands  it  could  be  placed  iuo 
Nor  did  the  law  ever  intend  to  prohibit  the  passing 
of  advowsons  from  one  patron  to  another  ;  but  to 
restrain  the  patron,  who  possesses  the  right  of  present- 
ing at  the  vacancy,  from  being  influenced,  in  the 
choice  of  his  presentee,  by  a  bribe,  or  benefit  to  him- 


148  Oath  against  Simony, 

self.  It  is  the  same  di.stinction  with  that  which  ob* 
tains  in  a  freeholder's  vote  for  his  representative  in. 
parliament.  The  right  of  voting,  that  is  the  free- 
hold, to  which  the  right  pertains,  may  be  bought 
and  sold,  as  freely  as  any  other  property  ;  but  the 
exercise  of  that  right,  the  vote  itself,  may  not  be  pur- 
chased, or  influenced  by  money. 

For  this  purpose,  the  law  imposes  upon  the  presen- 
tee, who  is  generally  concerned  in  the  simony,  if  there 
be  any,  the  following  oath  :  "  I  do  swear,  that  I  have 
made  no  sijuoniacal  payment,  contract,  or  promise, 
directly  or  indirectly,  by  myself,  or  by  any  other  to 
my  knowledge,  or  with  my  consent,  to  any  person  or 
persons  whatsoever,  for,  or  concerning  the  procur- 
ing and  obtaining  of  this  ecclesiastical  place,  &c.  nor 
will,  at  any  time  hereafter,  perform  or  satisfy,  any 
such  kind  of  payment,  contract  or  promise,  made  by 
any  other  without  my  knowledge  or  consent :  So  help 
me  God,  through  Jesus  Christ.'* 

It  is  extraordinary,  that  Bishop  Gibton  should  have 
thought  this  oath  to  be  against  all  promises  whatsoev- 
er, when  the  terms  of  the  oath  expressly  restrain  it 
to  simoniacal  promises ;  and  the  law  alone  must  pro- 
nounce what  promises,  as  well  as  what  payments, 
and  contracts,  are  simoniacal,  and  consequently, 
come  within  the  oath  ;  and  what  do  not  so. 

Now  the  law  adjudges  to  be  simony, 

1.  All  payments,  contracts,  or  promises,  made  by 
any  person,  for  a  benefice  already  vacant.  The  ad- 
vowson  of  a  void  turn,  by  law  cannot  be  transfer- 
red from  one  patron  to  another  :  therefore,  if  the 
void  turn  be  procured  by  money,  it  must  be  by  a 
pecuniary  influence  upon  the  then  subsisting  patron 
in  the  choice  of  his  presentee  j  which  is  the  very 
practice  the  law  condemns. 

2.  A  clergyman's  purchasing  of  the  next  turn  of  a 
benefice  for  himself  "  directly  or  indirectly,"  that  is, 
by  himself,  or  by  another  person  with  his  money. 
It  does  not  appear,  that  the  law  prohibits  a  clergy- 


Oath  against  Simony.  149 

silan  from  purchasing  the  perpetuity  of  a  patronage, 
more  than  any  other  person  ;  but  purchasing  the  per- 
petuity, and  forthwith  selling  it  again,  with  a  res- 
ervation of  the  next  turn,  and  with  no  other  design 
than  to  possess  himself  of  the  next  turn,  is  in  fraudem 
legis^  and  inconsistent  with  the  oath. 

3.  The  procuring  of  a  piece  of  preferment,  by 
ceding  to  the  patron  any  rights,  or  probable  rights, 
belonging  to  it.  This  is  simony  of  the  worst  kind  ; 
for  it  is  not  only  buying  preferment,  but  robbing 
the  succession  to  pay  for  it. 

4.  Promises  to  the  patron  of  a  portion  of  the 
profit,  of  a  remission  of  tythes  and  dues,  or  other 
advantage  out  of  the  produce  of  the  benefice : 
which  kind  of  compact  is  a  pernicious  condescension 
in  the  clergy,  independent  cf  the  oath  ;  for  it  tends 
to  introduce  a  practice  which  may  very  soon  be- 
come general,  of  giving  the  revenue  of  churches  to 
the  lay  patrons,  and  supplying  the  duty  by  indigent 
stipendiaries. 

5.  General  bonds  of  resignation,  that  is,  bonds  to 
resign  upon  demand. 

I  doubt  not  but  that  the  oath  against  simony  is 
binding  upon  the  consciences  of  those  who  take  ir, 
though  I  question  much  the  expediency  of  requiring 
it.  It  is  very  fit  to  debar  public  patrons,  such  as  the 
king,  the  lord  chancellor,  bishops,  ecclesiastical  corpo- 
rations, and  the  like,  from  this  kind  of  traffic ;  because,, 
from  them  may  be  expected  some  regard  to  the  quali- 
fications of  the  persons  whom  they  promote.  But  the 
oath  lays  a  snare  for  the  integrity  of  the  clergy ; 
and  I  do  not  perceive,  that  the  requiring  of  it,  in 
cases  of  private  patronage,  produces  any  good  effect, 
sufficient  to  compensate  for  this  danger. 

Where  advowsons  are  holden  along  with  manors, 
or  other  principal  estates,  it  would  be  an  easy  regu- 
lation to  forbid  that  they  should  ever  hereafter  be 
separated  ;  and  would,  at  least,  keep  church  prefer- 
ment out  of  the  hands  of  brokers. 


150  Oaths  to  oh  serine  Local  Statutes. 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

OATHS  TO  OBSERVE  LOCAL  STATUTES. 

JVIEMBERS  of  colleges  in  the  universltiesj 
and  of  other  ancient  foundations,  are  required  to 
sv/ear  to  the  observance  of  their  respective  statures : 
which  observance  is  become  in  some  cases  unlawful, 
in  others  impracticable,  in  others  useless,  in  others 
inconvenient. 

Unlawful  directions  are  countermanded  by  the 
authority  which  made  them  unlawful. 

Impracticable  directions  are  dispensed  with  by  the 
necessity  of  the  case. 

The  only  question  is,  how  far  the  members  of 
these  societies  may  take  upon  themselves  to  judge 
of  the  inconveniency  of  any  particular  direction,  and 
make  that  a  reason  for  laying  aside  the  observation 
of  it. 

The  animus  imponeniis,  which  is  the  measure  of  the' 
juror's  duty,  seems  to  be  satisfied,  when  nothing  is 
omitted,  but  what,  from  some  change  in  the  cir- 
cumstances under  which  it  was  prescribed,  it  may 
fairly  be  presumed  that  the  founder  himself  would 
have  dispensed  with. 

To  bring  a  case  within  this  rule,  the  inconveniency 
must, 

1.  Be  manifest -J  concerning  which  there  is  no 
doubt. 

2.  It  must  arise  from  some  change  in  the  circum- 
stances of  the  institution  ;  for,  let  the  inconveniency 
be  what  it  will,  if  it  existed  at  the  time  of  ihe  foun- 
dation, it  must  be  presumed,  tliat  the  founder  did 
not  deem  the  avoiding  of  it  of  sufficient  importance 
to  alter  his  plan. 

3.  The  direction  of  the  statute  must  not  only  be 
inconvenient  in  the  general,  for  so  may  the  institu- 


Subscriptions  to  Articles  of  Religion,         151 

tion  itself  be,  but  prejudicial  to  the  particular  end 
proposed  by  the  institution  ;  for  it  is  this  last  circum- 
stance which  proves  that  the  founder  would  have 
dispensed  with  it  in  pursuance  of  his  own  purpose. 

The  statutes  of  some  colleges  forbid  the  speaking 
of  any  language  but  Latin,  within  the  walls  of  the 
college  ;  direct  that  a  certain  number,  and  not  few- 
er than  that  number,  be  allowed  the  use  of  an 
apartment  amongst  them ;  that  so  many  hours  of 
each  day  be  employed  in  public  exercises,  lectures, 
or  disputations ;  and  some  other  articles  of  disci- 
pline, adapted  to  the  tender  years  of  the  students, 
who  in  former  times  resorted  to  universities.  Were 
colleges  to  retain  such  rules,  nobody  now-a-days 
would  come  near  them.  They  are  laid  aside,  there- 
fore, though  parts  of  the  statutes,  and  as  such 
included  within  the  oath,  not  merely  because  they 
are  inconvenient,  but  because  there  is  sufficient  rea- 
son to  believe,  that  the  founders  themselves  would 
have  dispensed  v/ith  them,  as  subversive  of  their  own 
designs. 


CHAPTER    XXII. 
SUBSCRIPTIONTOARTICLES  OF  RELIGIONo 

Subscription  to  Articles  of  Religion^ 
though  no  more  than  a  declaration  of  the  subscri- 
ber's assent,  may  properly  enough  be  considered  in. 
connexion  mith  the  subject  of  oaths,  because  it  is 
governed  by  the  same  rule  of  interpretation. 

Which  rule  is  the  animus  imponentis. 

The  inquiry,  therefore,  concerning  subscription 
will  be,  quis  imposuit,  et  quo  animo. 

The  bishop  who  receives  the  subscription,  is  not 

the  imposer,  any  more  than  the  cryer  of  a  court,  who 

administers  the  oath  to  the  jury  and  witnesses,  is  the 

person  that  imposes  it;    nor,   consequently,  is  the 

u 


152  Subscriptions  to  Articles  of  Religion. 

private  opinion  or  interpretation  of  the  bishop  of 
any  signification  to  the  subscriber,  one  way  or  other. 

The  compilers  of  the  thirty-nine  articles  are  not 
to  be  considered  as  the  imposers  of  subscription, 
any  more  than  the  framer  or  drawer  up  of  a  law  is 
the  person  that  enacts  it. 

The  legislature  of  the  13  Eliz.  is  the  imposer, 
whose  intention  the  subscriber  is  bound  to  satisfy. 

They  who  contend,  that  nothing  less  can  justify 
subscription  to  the  thirty  nine  articles,  than  the  actual 
belief  of  each  and  every  separate  proposition  con- 
tained in  them,  must  suppose,  that  the  legislature 
expected  the  consent  of  ten  thousend  men,  and  rhat 
in  perpetual  succession,  not  to  one  controverted 
proposition,  but  to  many  hundreds.  It  is  difficult 
to  conceive  how  this  couM  be  expected  by  any,  who 
observed  the  incurable  diversity  of  human  opinion 
upon  all  subjects  short  of  demonstration. 

If  the  authors  of  the  law  did  not  intend  this, 
what  did  they  intend  ? 

They  intended  to  exclude  from  offices  in  the  church, 

1.  All  abettors  of  popery. 

2.  Anabaptists,  who  were  at  that  time  a  powerful 
party  on  the  continent. 

5.  The  Puritans,  who  were  hostile  to  an  episcopal 
constitution;  and,  in  general,  the  members  of  such 
leading  sects  of  foreign  establishments  as  threatened 
to  overthrow  our  own. 

Whoever  finds  himself  comprehended  within 
these  descriptions,  ought  not  to  subscribe.  Nor  can. 
a  subscriber  to  the  articles  take  advantage  of  any  lat- 
titude  which  our  rule  may  seem  to  allow,  who  is  not 
first  convinced  that  he  is  truly  and  substantially  satis- 
fying the  intention  of  the  legislature. 

t)uring  the  present  state  of  ecclesiastical  patronage, 
in  which  private  individuals  are  permitted  to  impose 
teachers  upon  parishes,  with  which  they  are  often 
little  or  not  at  all  connected,  some  limitation  of  the 
patron's  choice  may  be  necessary,  to  prevent  unedi- 
fying   contentions  between    neighbouring    teachers^ 


Wills.  I  S3 

ar  between  the  teachers  and  their  respective  congre- 
gations. But  this  danger,  if  it  exist,  may  be  pro- 
vided against  with  equal  effect,  by  converting  the 
articles  of  faith  into  articles  of  peace. 


CHAPTER     XXIII. 
WILLS. 


The 


fundamental  question  upon  this  subject 
is,  whether  Wills  are  of  natural  or  of  adventitious 
right  ?  that  is,  whether  the  right  of  directing  the 
disposition  of  property  after  his  death  belongs  to  a 
man  in  a  state  of  nature,  and  by  the  law  of  nature, 
or  whether  it  be  given  him  entirely  by  the  positive 
regulations  of  the  country  he  lives  in  ? 

The  immediate  produce  of  each  man's  personal 
labour,  as  the  tools,  weapons,  and  utensils,  which 
he  manufactures,  the  tent  or  hut  he  builds,  and  per- 
haps the  flocks  and  herds  which  he  breeds  and  rears, 
are  as  much  his  own  as  the  labour  was  which  he 
employed  upon  them,  that  is,  are  his  property  nat- 
urally and  absolutely ;  and  consequently  he  may 
give  or  leave  them  to  whom  he  pleases,  there  being 
nothing  to  limit  the  continuance  of  his  right,  or  to 
restrain  the  alienation  of  it. 

But  every  other  species  of  property,  especially 
property  in  land,  stands  upon  a  different  foundation. 

We  have  seen  in  the  Chapter  upon  Property,  that, 
in  a  state  of  nature,  a  man's  right  to  a  particular 
spot  of  ground  arises  from  his  using  it,  and  his  want- 
ing it ;  consequently  ceases  with  the  use  and  want ;  so 
that  at  his  death  the  estate  reverts  to  the  communi- 
ty, without  any  regard  to  the  last  owner's  will,  or 
even  any  preference  of  his  family,  farther  than  as 
they  become  the  first  occupiers  alter  him,  and  suc- 
ceed to  the  same  want  and  use. 

Moreover,  as  natural  rights  cannot,  like  rights 
created  by  act  of  parliament,  expire  at  the  end  of  a 


154  Wills. 

certain  number  of  years  ;  if  the  testator  have  a  right 
by  the  law  of  nature,  to  dispose  of  his  property  one 
moment  after  his  death,  he  has  the  same  right  to 
direct  the  disposition  of  it,  for  a  milHon  of  ages  af- 
ter him  ;  which  is  absurd. 

The  ancient  apprehensions  of  mankind  upon  the 
subject  were  conformable  to  this  account  of  it:  for 
wills  have  been  introduced  into  most  countries  by  a 
positive  act  of  the  state,  as  by  the  laws  of  Solon  into 
Greece,  by  the  twelve  tables  into  Rome,  and  that,  not 
till  after  a  considerable  progress  had  been  made  in 
legislation,  and  in  the  economy  of  civil  life.  Tacitus 
relates,  that  amongst  the  Germans  they  were  disallow- 
ed ;  and,  what  is  more  remarkable,  in  this  country, 
since  the  conquest,  lands  could  not  be  devised  by 
will,  till  within  little  more  than  two  hundred  years 
ago,  when  this  privilege  was  restorted  to  the  subject, 
by  an  act  of  parliament  in  the  latter  end  of  the 
reign  of  Henry  the  Eighth. 

No  doubt  many  beneficial  purposes  are  attained 
by  extending  the  owner's  power  over  his  property 
beyond  his  life,  and  beyond  his  natural  right.  It 
invites  to  industry  ;  it  encourages  marriage ;  it  se- 
cures the  dutifulness  and  dependency  of  children. 
But  a  limit  must  be  assigned  to  the  duration  of  this 
power.  The  utmost  extent  to  which,  in  any  case, 
entails  are  allowed  by  the  laws  of  England  to  operate, 
is  during  the  lives  in  existence  at  the  death  of  the 
testator,''  and  one  and  twenty  years  beyond  these  ; 
after  which,  there  are  ways  and  means  of  setting 
them  aside. 

From  the  consideration  that  wills  are  the  creatures 
of  the  municipal  law  which  gives  them  their  efficacy, 
may  be  deduced  a  determination  of  the  question, 
whether  the  intention  of  the  testator  in  an  informal 
will  be  binding  upon  the  conscience  of  those,  who, 
by  operation  of  law,  succeed  to  his  estate.  By  an 
informal  will,  I  mean  a  will  void  in  law,  for  want  of 
some  requisite  formality,  though  no  doubt  be  enter- 
tained of  its  meaning  or  authenticity  :  as  suppose  a 


Wills.  155 

man  make  his  will,  devising  his  freehold  estate  to 
his  sister's  son,  and  the  will  be  attested  by  two  only, 
instead  of  three  subscribing  witnesses  ;  would  the 
brother's  son,  who  is  heir  at  law  to  the  testator,  be 
bound  in  conscience  to  resign  his  claim  to  the  estate, 
out  of  deference  to  his  uncle's  intention  ?  Or,  on 
the  contrary,  would  not  the  devisee  under  the  will 
be  bound,  upon  discovery  of  this  flaw  in  it,  to 
surrender  the  estate,  suppose  he  had  gained  posses- 
sion of  it,  to  the  heir  at  law  ? 

Generally  speaking,  the  heir  at  law  is  not  bound 
by  the  intention  of  the  testator.  For  the  intention 
can  signify  nothing,  unless  the  person  intending 
have  a  right  to  govern  the  descent  of  the  estate. 
That  is  the  first  question.  Now  this  right  the  tes- 
tator can  only  derive  from  the  law  of  the  land  ;  but 
the  law  confers  the  right  upon  certain  conditions, 
with  which  conditions  he  has  not  complied.  There- 
fore, the  testator  can  lay  no  claim  to  the  power 
which  he  pretends  to  exercise,  as  he  hath  not  enti- 
tled himself  to  the  benefit  of  that  law,  by  virtue  of 
which  alone  the  estate  ought  to  attend  his  disposal. 
Consequently,  the  devisee  under  the  will,  who,  by 
concealing  this  flaw  in  it,  keeps  possession  of  the  es- 
tate, is  in  the*  situation  of  any  other  person,  who 
avails  himself  of  his  neighbour's  ignorar^e  to  detain 
from  him  his  property.  The  will  is  so  much  waste 
paper,  from  the  defect  of  right  in  the  person  who 
made  it.  Nor  is  this  catching  at  an  expression  of 
law  to  prevent  the  substantial  design  of  it,  for  I  ap- 
prehended it  to  be  the  deliberate  mind  of  the  legisla-. 
ture,  that  no  will  should  take  effect  upon  real  estates, 
unless  authenticated  in  the  precise  manner  which 
the  statute  describes.  Had  testamentary  dispositions 
been  founded  in  any  natural  right,  independent  of 
positive  constitutions,  I  should  have  thought  differ- 
ently of  this  question.  For  then  I  should  have  con- 
sidered the  law,  rather  as  refusing  its  assistance  to 
enforce  the  rieht  of  the  devisee,  than  as  extinguish- 
ing,  or  working  any  alteration  in  the  right  itself. 


156  Wills, 

And,  after  all,  I  should  choose  to  propose  a  case 
where  no  consideration  of  pity  to  distress,  of  duty 
to  a  parent,  or  of  gratitude  to  a  benefactor,  inter- 
fered with  the  general  rule  of  justice. 

The  regard  due  to  kindred  in  the  disposal  of  our 
fortune  (except  the  case  of  lineal  kindred,  which  is 
different)  arises  either  from  the  respect  we  owe  to 
the  presumed  intention  of  the  ance.stor  from  whom 
we  received  our  fortunes,  or  from  the  expectations 
which  we  have  encouraged.  The  intention  of  the 
ancestor  is  presumed  with  greater  certainty,  as  well 
as  entitled  to  more  respect,  the  fewer  degrees  he  is 
removed  from  us,  which  makes  the  difference  in  the 
different  degrees  of  kindred.  For  instance,  it  may  be 
presumed  to  be  a  father's  intention  and  desire,  that  the 
inheritance  which  he  leaves,  after  it  has  served  the 
turn  and  generation  of  one  son,  should  remain  a  pro- 
vision for  the  families  of  his  other  children,  equally 
related  and  dear  to  him  as  the  oldest.  Whoever, 
therefore,  without  cause  gives  away  his  patrimony 
from  his  brother's  or  sister's  family,  is  guilty  not  so 
much  of  an  injury  to  them,  as  of  ingratitude  to  his 
parent.  The  deference  due  from  the  possessor  of  a 
fortune  to  the  presumed  desire  of  his  ancestor  will  al- 
so vary  with  this  circumstance,  whether  the  ances- 
tor earned  the  fortune  by  his  personal  industry,  ac- 
quired it  by  accidental  successes,  or  only  transmitted 
the  inheritance  which  he  received. 

Where  a  man's  fortune  is  acquired  by  himself,  and 
he  has  done  nothing  to  excite  expectation,  but  rather 
has  refrained  from  those  particular  attentions  which 
tend  to  cherish  expectation,  he  is  perfectly  disengaged 
from  the  force  of  the  above  reasons,  and  at  liberty  to 
leave  his  fortune  to  his  friends,  to  charitable  or  public 
purposes,  or  to  whom  he  will ;  the  same  blood,  prox- 
imity of  blood,  and  the  like,  are  merely  modes  of 
speech,  implying  nothing  real,  nor  any  obligation  of 
themselves. 

There  is  always,  however,  a  reason  for  providing 
for  our  poor  relations,  in  preference  to  others  who 


Wills*  157 

may  be  equally  necessitous,  which  is,  that  if  we  do 
not,  no  one  else  will :  mankind,  by  an  established 
consent,  leaving  the  reduced  branches  of  good  fami- 
lies to  the  bounty  of  their  wealthy  alliances. 

The  not  making  a  will  is  a  very  culpable  omission, 
where  it  is  attended  with  the  following  effects : 
where  it  leaves  daughters  or  younger  children  at  the 
mercy  of  the  oldest  son  ;  where  it  distributes  a  per- 
sonal fortune  equally  amongst  the  children,  although 
there  be  no  equality  in  their  exigences  or  situations  j 
where  it  leaves  an  opening  for  litigation  ;  or  lastly, 
and  principally,  where  it  defrauds  creditors  :  for  by  a 
defect  in  our  laws,  which  has  been  long  and  strange- 
ly overlooked,  real  estates  are  not  subject  to  the  pay- 
ment of  debts  by  simple  contract,  unless  made  so  by 
will ;  although  credit  is  in  fact  generally  given  to  the 
possession  of  such  estates.  He,  therefore,  who  neg- 
lects to  make  the  necessary  appointments  for  the 
payment  of  his  debts,  as  far  a^  his  effects  extend,  sins, 
as  it  has  been  justly  said,  in  his  grave;  and,  if  he  omits 
this  on  purpose  to  defeat  the  demands  of  his  credit- 
ors, he  dies  with  a  deliberate  fraud  in  his  heart. 

Anciently,  when  any  one  died  without  a  will,  the 
bishop  of  the  diocese  took  possession  of  his  personal 
fortune,  in  order  to  dispose  of  it  for  the  benefit  of 
his  soul,  that  is,  to  pious  or  charitable  uses.  It  be- 
came necessary,  therefore,  that  the  bishop  should  be 
satisfied  of  the  authenticity  of  the  will,  when  there 
was  any,  before  he  resigned  the  right  which  he  had 
to  take  possession  of  the  dead  man's  fortune,  in  case 
of  intestacy.  In  this  way,  wills,  and  controversies 
relating  to  wills,  came  within  the  cognizance  of  ec- 
clesiastical courts ;  under  the  jurisdiction  of  which, 
wills  of  personals  (the  only  wills  that  were  made 
formerly)  still  continue,  though,  in  truth,  no  more 
now-a-days  connected  with  religion,  than  any  other 
instruments  of  conveyance.  This  is  a  peculiarity  in 
the  English  law. 

Succession  to  intestates  must  be  regulated  by  positive 
rules  of  lawj  there  being  no  principle  of  natural  jus^ 


158!  mils. 

tice  whereby  to  ascertain  the  proportion  of  the  dif- 
ferent claimants ;  not  to  mention  that  the  claim  it- 
self, especially  of  collateral  kindred,  seems  to  have  lit- 
tle foundation  in  the  law  of  nature.  These  regula- 
tions should  be  guided  by  the  duty  and  presumed  in- 
clination of  the  deceased,  so  far  as  these  considerations 
can  be  consulted  by  general  rules.  The  statutes  of 
Charles  the  Second,  commonly  called  the  statutes  of 
distribution,  which  adopt  the  rule  of  the  Roman  law 
in  the  distribution  of  personals,  are  sufficiently  equit- 
able. They  assign  one  third  to  the  widow,  and  two 
thirds  to  the  children  ;  in  case  of  no  children,  one 
half  to  the  widow,  and  the  other  half  to  the  next  of 
kin ;  where  neither  widow  nor  lineal  descendants 
survive,  the  whole  to  the  next  of  kin,  and  to  be 
equally  divided  amongst  kindred  of  equal  degrees ; 
without  distinction  of  whole  blood  and  half  blood, 
or  of  consanguinity  by  the  father's  or  mother's  side. 

The  descent  of  real  estates,  of  houses,  that  is,  and 
land,  having  been  settled  in  more  remote  and  in 
ruder  times,  is  less  reasonable.  There  never  can  be 
much  to  complain  of  in  a  rule,  which  every  person 
may  avoid  by  so  easy  a  provision  as  that  of  making 
his  will  ;  otherwise,  our  law  in  this  respect  is  charge- 
able with  some  flagrant  absurdities ;  such  as,  that  an 
estate  shall  in  no  wise  go  to  the  brother  or  sister  of 
the  half  blood,  though  it  came  to  the  deceased  from 
the  common  parent ;  that  it  shall  go  to  the  remotest 
relation  the  intestate  has  in  the  world,  rather  than  to 
his  own  father  or  mother,  or  even  be  forfeited  for 
want  of  an  heir,  though  both  parents  survive  ;  that 
the  most  distant  paternal  relation  should  be  prefered 
to  an  uncle  or  own  cousin  by  the  mother's  side,  not- 
withstanding the  estate  was  purchased  and  acquired 
by  the  intestate  himself. 

Land  not  being  so  divisible  as  money,  may  be  a  rea- 
son'for'  making  a  difference  in  the  course  of  inherit- 
ance ;  but  there  ought  to  be  n^^  difT-srence  but  what 
IS  founded  upon  that  reason.  The  Roman  law  made 
none. 


BOOK   III. 

Relative  Duties. 


PART  IL 

OF  RELATIVE  DUTIES  WHICH  ARE  INDE- 
TERMINATE. 


CHAPTER    i. 
CHARITY. 

I  USE  the  term  Charity  neither  in  the  com= 
mon  sense  of  bounty  to  the  poor,  nor  in  St.  Paul's 
sense  of  benevolence  to  all  mankind,  but  I  apply  it  at 
present,  in  a  sense  more  commodious  to  my  purpose, 
to  signify  the  promoting  the  happiness  of  our  inferiors. 

Charity  in  this  sense  I  take  to  be  the  principal  prov- 
ince of  virtue  and  religion  :  for  whilst  worldly 
prudence  will  direct  our  behaviour  towards  our  supe- 
riors, and  politeness  towards  our  equals,  there  is  little 
beside  the  consideration  of  duty,  or  an  habitual  hu- 
manity, which  comes  into  the  place  of  consideration, 
to  produce  a  proper  conduct  towards  those  who  are 
beneath  us,  and  dependent  upon  us. 

There  are  three  principal  methods  of  promoting 
the  happiness  of  our  inferiors. 

1 .  By  the  treatment  of  our  domestics  and  depend- 
ants. 

2.  By  professional  assistance. 

3.  By  pecuniary  bounty. 

w 


160  Treatment  of  DoiMstics. 

CHAPTER    II. 

CHARITY. 

TREATMENT   OF   OUl^    DOMESTICS    AND    DE*^ 
PENDANTS. 

A  PARTY  of  friends  setting  out  together  up- 
on a  journey,  soon  find  it  to  be  the  best  for  all  sides, 
that  while  they  are  upon  the  road,  one  of  the  company 
should  wait  upon  the  rest ;  another  ride  forward  to 
seek  out  lodging  and  entertainment ;  a  third  carry  the 
portmanteau  ;  a  fouith  take  charge  of  the  horses  ;  a 
fifth  bear  the  purse,  conduct  and  direct  the  rout : 
not  forgetting,  however,  that  as  they  were  equal  and 
independent  when  they  set  out,  so  they  are  all  to 
return  to  "a  level  again  at  their  journey's  end.  The 
same  regard  and  respect ;  the  same  forbearance, 
lenity,  and  reserve  in  using  their  service ;  the 
same  mildness  in  deUvering  commands ;  the  same 
study  to  make  their  journey  cornfortable  and  pleasant, 
which  he,  whose  lot  it  was  to  direct  the  rest,  would 
in  common  decency  think  himself  bound  to  observe 
towards  them  ;  ought  we  to  shew  to  those,  who,  in 
the  casting  of  the  parts  of  human  society,  happen  to 
be  placed  within  our  power,  or  to  depend  upon  us. 

Another  reflection  of  a  like  tendency  with  the  form- 
er, is,  that  our  obligation  to  them  is  much  greater 
than  theirs  to  us.  It  is  a  mistake  to  suppose,  that 
the  rich  man  maintains  his  servants,  tradesmen,  ten- 
ants, and  labourers :  the  truth  is,  they  maintain  him. 
It  is  their  industry  which  suppUes  his  table,  furnishes 
his  wardrobe,  builds  his  houses,  adorns  his  equipage, 
provides  his  amusements.  It  is  not  the  estate,  but 
the  labour  employed  upon  it,  that  pays  his  rent. 
All  that  he  does  is  to  distribute  what  others  produce  ; 
which  is  the  least  part  of  the  business. 

Nor  do  I  perceive  any  foundation  for  an  opinion, 
which  is   often  handed  round  in  genteel  company. 


Slavery.  161 

that  good  usage  is  thrown  away  upon  low  and  or- 
dinary minds  ;  that  they  are  insensible  of  kindness, 
and  incapable  of  gratitude.  If  by  "  low  and  ordina- 
ry minds"  are  meant  the  minds  of  men  in  low  and 
ordinary  stations,  they  seenl  to  be  affected  by  benefits 
in  the  same  way  that  all  others  are,  and  to  be  no  less 
ready  to  requite  them  :  and  it  would  be  a  very  unac- 
countable law  of  nature  if  it  were  otherwise. 

Whatever  uneasiness  we  occasion  to  our  domestics, 
which  neither  promotes  our  service,  nor  answers  the 
just  ends  of  punishment,  is  manifestly  wrong  ;  were 
it  only  upon  the  general  principle  of  diminishing  the 
sum  of  human  happiness. 

By  which  rule  we  are  forbidden, 

1.  To  enjoin  unnecessary  labour  or  confinement, 
from  the  mere  love  and  wantonness  of  domination. 

2.  To  insult  our  servants  by  harsh,  scornful,  or 
opprobrious  language. 

3.  To  refuse  them  any  harmless  pleasures. 

And  by  the  same  principle  are  also  forbidden  cause- 
less or  immoderate  anger,  habitual  peevishness,  and 
groundless  suspicion. 


CHAPTER    III. 
SLAVERY. 

The  prohibitions  of  the  last  Chapter  extend 
to  the  treatment  of  slaves,  being  founded  upon  a 
principle  independent  of  the  contract  between  mas- 
ters and  servants. 

I  define  slavery  to  be  "  an  obligation  to  labour  for 
the  benefit  of  the  master,  without  the  contract  or 
consent  of  the  servant." 

This  obligation  may  arise,  consistently  with  the  law 
of  nature,  from  three  causes : 


262  Slavery. 

1.  From  crimes. 

2.  From  captivity. 

3.  From  debt. 

In  the  first  case,  the  continuance  of  the  slavery,  as 
of  any  other  punishment,  ought  to  be  proportioned 
to  the  crime ;  in  the  second  and  third  cases,  it  ought 
to  cense,  as  soon  as  the  demand  of  the  injured  nation 
or  private  creditor  is  satisfied. 

T?he  slave-trade  upon  the  coast  of  Africa  is  not  ex- 
cused by  these  principles.  When  slaves  in  that  coun- 
try are  brought  to  market,  no  questions,  I  believe, 
are  asked  about  the  origin  or  justice  of  the  vendor's 
title.  It  may  be  presumed,  therefore,  that  this  title  is 
not  always,  if  it  be  ever,  founded  in  any  of  the  caus- 
es above  assigned. 

But  defect  of  right  in  the  first  purchase  is  the  least 
crime,  vi^ith  virhich  this  traffic  is  chargeable.  The 
natives  are  excited  to  war  and  mutual  depredation, 
for  the  sake  of  supplying  their  contracts,  or  furnish- 
ing the  market  with  slaves.  With  this  the  wicked- 
ness begins.  The  slaves,  torn  away  from  parents, 
wives,  children,  from  their  friends  and  companions, 
their  fields  and  flocks,  their  home  and  country,  are 
transported  to  the  European  settlements  in  America, 
with  no  other  accommodation  on  shipboard,  than 
what  is  provided  for  brutes.  This  is  the  second 
stage  of  cruelty,  from  which  the  miserable  exiles  are 
delivered,  only  to  be  placed,  and  that  for  life,  in  sub- 
jection to  a  dominion  and  system  of  laws,  the  most 
merciless  and  tyrannical  that  ever  were  tolerated 
upon  the  face  of  the  earth  :  and  from  all  that  can  be 
learned  by  the  accounts  of  the  people  upon  the  spot, 
the  inordinate  authority,  which  the  plantation  laws 
confer  upon  the  slave-holder,  is  exercised,  by  the 
English  slave-holder,  especially,  with  rigor  and  bru- 
tality. 

But  necessity  is  pretended  ;  the  name  under  which 
^very  enormity  is  attempted  to  be  justified.     And. 


Slavery.  1 63 

after  all,  what  is  the  necessity?  It  has  never  been 
proved  that  the  land  could  not  be  cultivated  there, 
as  it  is  here,  by  hired  servants.  It  is  said  that  it 
could  not  be  cultivated  with  quite  the  same  conven- 
iency  and  cheapness,  as  by  the  labour  of  slaves :  by 
which  means,  a  pound  of  sugar,  which  the  planter 
now  sells  for  six  pence  could  not  be  aiforded  under 
sixpence  half-penny — and  this  is  the  necessity  ! 

The  great  revolution  which  has  taken  place  in 
the  Western  World  may  probably  conduce  (and  who 
knows  but  tliat  it  was  designed  ?)  to  accelerate  the 
fall  of  this  abominable  tyranny  :  and  now  that  this 
contest,  and  the  passions  which  attend  it,  are  no 
more,  there  may  succeed  perhaps  a  season  for  reflect- 
ing, whether  a  legislature,  which  had  so  long  lent 
its  assistance  to  the  support  of  an  institution  replete 
with  human  misery,  was  fit  to  be  trusted  with  an 
empire,  the  most  extensive  that  ever  obtained  in  any 
age  or  quarter  of  the  world. 

Slavery  was  a  part  of  the  civil  constitution  of  mosc 
countries,  when  Christianity  appeared  ;  yet  no  pas- 
sage is  to  be  found  in  the  christian  scriptures,  by 
which  it  is  condemned  or  prohibited.  This  is  true  ; 
for  Christianity,  soliciting  •  admission  into  all  nations 
of  the  world,  abi-tained,  as  behoved  it,  from  inter- 
meddling with  the  civil  institutions  of  any.  But 
does  it  follow,  from  the  silence  of  scripture  concern- 
ing them,  that  all  the  civil  institutions  which  then 
prevailed,  were  right  ?  or  that  the  bad  should  not 
be  exchanged  for  better  ? 

Beside  this,  the  discharging  of  slaves  from  all  ob- 
ligation to  obey  their  masters,  which  is  the  conse- 
quence of  pronouncing  slavery  to  be  unlawful, 
would  have  had  no  better  effect,  than  to  let  loose 
one  half  of  mankind  upon  the  other.  Slaves  would 
have  been  tenipted  to  embrace  a  religion,  which 
asserted  their  right  to  freedom.  Masters  v/ould 
hardly  have  been  persuaded  to  consent  to  claims 
xounded  upon  such  authority.     The  most  calamitous 


164'  Professional  Assistance, 

of  all  contests,  a  bellu??i  servile,  might  probably  Iiave 
jensued,  to  the  reproach,  if  not  the  extinction  of  the 
Christian  name.  ^ 

The  truth  is,  the  emancipation  of  slaves  shouldi  be 
gradual  ;  and  be  carried  on  by  provisions  of  law, 
and  under  the  protection  of  civil  government. 
•Christianity  can  only  operate  as  an  alterative.  By 
the  mild  diffusion  of  its  light  and  influence,  the 
minds  of  men  are  insensibly  prepared  to  perceive  and 
correct  the  enormities,  which  folly,  or  wickedness,  or 
accident,  have  introduced  into  their  public  establish- 
ments. In  this  way  the  Greek  and  Roman  slavery, 
and  since  these  the  feudal  tyranny,  has  declined  before 
it.  And  we  trust  that,  as  the  knowledge  and  author- 
ity of  the  same  religion  advance  in  the  world,  they 
will  banish  what  remains  of  this  odious  institution. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

CHARITY. 

PROFESSIONAL  ASSISTANCE. 

1  HIS  kind  of  beneficence  is  chiefly  to  be  ex- 
:pectcKl  from  members  of  the  legislature,  magistrates, 
medical,  legal,  and  sacerdotal  professions. 

1.  The  care  of  the  poor  ought  to  be  the  principal 
-»biect  of  all  laws,  for  this  plain  reason,  that  the  rich 
are  able  to  take  care  of  themselves. 

Much  has  been,  and  more  might  be  done,  by  the 
laws  of  this  country,  towards  the  relief  of  the  impo- 
tent, and  the  protection  and  encouragement  of  the 
industrious  poor.  Whoever  applies  himself  to  collect 
observations  upon  the  state  and  operation  of  the  poor 
laws,  and  to  contrive  remedies  for  the  imperfections 
and  abuses  which  he  observes,  and  digests  these  reme- 
dies into  acts  of  parliament,  and  conducts  them  by 


Professional  Assistance.  iG5' 

argument  or  influence  through  the  two  branches  of 
the  legislature,  or  communicates  his  ideas  to  those^ 
who  are  more  Hkely  to  carry  them  into  effect ;  de- 
serves well  of  a  class  of  the  community  so  numerous, 
that  their  happiness  forms  a  principal  part  of  the 
whole.  The  study  and  activity  thus  employed  is 
charity,  in  the    most    meritorious  sense  of  the  word. 

2.  The  application  of  parochial  relief  is  entrusted 
in  the  first  instance  to  overseers  and  contractors,  who 
have  an  interest  in  opposition  to  that  of  the  poor,  in- 
asmuch as  whatever  they  allow  them  comes  in  part 
out  of  their  own  pocket.  For  this  reason,  the  law 
has  deposited  with  justices  of  the  peace,  a  power  of 
superintendance  and  control ;  and  the  judicious  in- 
terposition of  this  power  is  a  most  useful  exertion  of 
charity,  and  ofttimes  within  the  ability  of  those,  wha 
have  no  other  way  of  serving  their  generation,  A 
country  gentleman  of  very  moderate  education,  and 
who  has  little  to  spare  from  his  fortune,  by  learning 
so  much  of  the  poor  law  as  is  to  be  found  in  Dr. 
Burn's  Justice,  and  by  furnishing  himself  with  a 
knowledge  of  the  prices  of  labour  and  provision,  so 
as  to  be  able  to  estimate  the  exigences  of  a  family, 
and  what  is  to  be  expected  from  their  industry,  may, 
in  this  way,  place  out  the  one  talent  committed  to 
him  to  great  account. 

S.  Of  all  private  professions,  that  of  medicine  puts 
it  in  a  man's  power  to  do  the  most  good  at  the  least 
expense.  Health,  which  is  precious  to  all,  is  to  the 
poor  invaluable ;  and  their  complaints,  as  agues, 
rheumatisms,  &c.  are  often  such  as  yield  to  medicine. 
And  with  respect  to  the  expense,  drugs  at  first  hand 
cost  little,  and  advice  cost  nothing,  where  it  is  only 
bestowed  upon  those  who  could  not  afford  to  pay 
for  it, 

4.  The  rights  of  the  poor  are  not  so  important  or 
intricate  as  their  contentions  are  violent  and  ruinous. 
A  Lawyer  or  Attorney,  of  tolerable  knowledge  in 
his  profession,  has  commonly  judgment  enough  to 


366  trofeumial  As  sis  lance. 

adjust  these  disputes,  with  all  the  effect,  and  without 
the  expense,  of  a  law-suit  j  and  he  may  be  said  to 
give  a  poor  man  twenty  pounds,  who  prevents  his 
throwing  it  away  upon  law.  A  legal  man,  whether 
of  the  profession  or  not,  who,  together  with  a  spirit 
of  conciliation,  possesses  the  conjftdence  of  his  neigh- 
bourhood, will  be  much  resorted  to  for  this  purpose, 
especially  since  the  great  increase  of  costs  has  produ- 
ced a  general  dread  of  going  to  law. 

Nor  is  this  line  of  beneficence  confined  to  arbitra- 
tion. Seasonable  counsel,  coming  with  the  weight 
which  the  reputation  of  the  adviser  gives  it,  will  of- 
ten keep  or  extricate  the  rash  and  uninformed  out  of 
great  difficulties. 

Lastly,  I  know  not  a  more  exalted  charity  than 
that  which  presents  a  shield  against  the  rapacity  or 
persecution  of  a  tyrant. 

5.  Betwixt  argument  and  authority  (I  mean  that 
authority  which  flows  from  volnntary  respect,  and 
attends  upon  sanctity  and  disinterestedness  of  charac- 
ter) something  may  be  done  amongst  the  lower  or- 
ders of  mankind,  towards  the  regulation  of  their 
conduct,  and  the  satisfaction  of  their  thoughts. 
This  ofHce  belongs  to  the  ministers  of  religion  ;  or 
rather  whoever,  undertakes  it  becomes  a  minister  of 
religion.  The  inferior  clergy,  who  are  nearly  upon 
a  level  with  the  common  sort  of  their  parishioners, 
and  who  on  that  account  gain  an  easier  admission  to 
their  society  and  confidence,  have  in  this  respect 
more  in  their  power  than  their  superiors  :  the  dis- 
creet use  of  this  power  constitutes  one  of  the  most 
respectable  functions  of  human  nature. 


Pecuniary  Bounty,  161 

CHAPTER  V. 
CHARITY. 

PECUNIARY  BOUNTY. 

I.  The  obligation  to  bestow  relief  upon  the  poor, 

II.  The  manner  of  bestowing  it, 

III.  The  pretences  by  which  men  excuse  themsehis 
from  it. 

I.     The  obligation  to  bestow  relief  upon  the  poor. 

1  HEY  who  rank  pity  amongst  the  original 
impulses  of  our  nature,  rightly  contend,  that,  when 
this  principle  prompts  us  to  the  relief  of  human  mis- 
ery, it  indicates  the  divine  intention,  and  our  duty. 
Indeed  the  same  conclusion  is  deducible  from  the  ex- 
istence of  the  passion,  whatever  account  be  given  of 
its  origin.  Whether  it  be  an  instinct  or  a  habit,  it 
is  ill  fact  a  property  of  our  nature,  which  God  ap- 
pointed :  and  the  final  cause,  for  which  it  was  appoint- 
ed, is  to  aftbrd  to  the  miserable,  in  the  compassion 
of  their  fellow  creatures,  a  remedy  for  those  inequal- 
ities and  distresses  which  God  foresaw  that  many 
must  be  exposed  to,  under  every  general  rule  for 
the  distribution  of  property. 

Beside  this,  the  poor  have  a  claim  founded  in  the 
law  of  nature,  which  may  be  thus  explained.  All 
things  were  originally  common.  No  one  being  able 
to  produce  a  charter  from  heaven,  had  any  better 
title  to  a  particular  possession  than  his  next  neigh- 
bour. There  were  reasons  for  mankind's  agreeing 
upon  a  separation  of  this  common  fund ;  and  God 
for  these  reasons  is  presumed  to  have  ratified  it. 
But  this  separation  was  made  and  consented  to,  upon 
the  expectation  and  condition,  that  every  on,e  should 
have  left  a  sufficiency  for  his  subsistence,  or  the 
means  of  procuring  it :  and  as  no  fixed  laws  for  the 
regulation  of  property  can  be  so  contrived,  as  to 
provide  for  the  relief  of  every  case  and  distress  which 

X 


£■68  Pecuniary  Bounty. 

may  arise,  these  cases  and  distresses,  when  their  n| 
and  share  in  the  common  stock  was  given  up  or  taken 
from  them,  were  supposed  to  be  left  to  the  voluntary 
bounty  of  those,  who  might  be  acquainted  with  the 
exigences  of  their  situation,  and  in  the  way  of  af- 
fording assistance.  And  therefore,  when  the  parti- 
tion of  property  is  rigidly  maintained  against  the 
claims  of  indigence  and  distress,  it  is  maintained  in 
opposition  to  the  intention  of  those  who  made  it,  and 
to  his,  who  is  the  Supreme  Proprietor  of  every  thing, 
and  who  has  filled  the  world  with  plenteousness  for  the 
sustentation  and  comfort  of  all  whom  he  sends  into  It. 
The  Christian  scriptures  arc  more  copious  and  ex- 
plicit upon  this  duty  than  upon  almost  any  other. 
The  description  which  Christ  hath  left  us  of  the  pro- 
ceedings or  the  last  day,  establishes  the  obligation  of 
bounty,  beyond  controversy.  "  When  the  Son  of 
Man  shall  come  in  his  glory,  and  all  the  holy  angels 
with  him,  then  shall  he  sit  upon  the  throne  of  hi^- glo- 
ry, and  before  him  shall  be  gathered  all  nations  ; 
and  he  sh?ll  separate  them  one  from  another.^Then 
shall  the  King  say  unto  them  on  his  right  hand, 
Come,  ye  blessed  of  my  Father,  inherit  the  kingdom 
prepared  for  you  from  the  foundation  of  the  world  : 
For  I  was  an  hungered,  and  ye  gave  me  meat :  I  was 
thirsty,  and  ye  gave  me  drink  :  I  was  a  stranger,  and 
ye  took  me  In :  naked,  and  ye  clothed  me  :  I  was 
sick,  and  ye  visited  me  :  I  was  in  prison,  and  ye  came 
unto  me. — And  Inasmuch  as  ye  have  done  It  to  one  of 
the  least  of  these  my  brethren,  ye  have  done  it  unfo 
me.'**  It  is  not  necessary  to  understand  this  passage 
as  a  literal  account  of  v.'hat  will  actually  pass  on  that 
day.  Supposing  it  only  a  scenical  description  of  the 
rules  and  principles,  by  which  the  Supreme  Arbiter 
of  our  destiny  will  regulate  his  decisions,  it  conveys 
the  same  lesson  to  us  ;  it  equally  demonstrates,  of 
how  great  value  and  importance  these  duties  in  the 
sight  of  God  are,  and  what  stress  will  be  laid  upon 
them.     The  Apostles  also  describe  this  virtue  as  pro» 

*  Matth.  XXV.  31. 


Pecuniary  Bounty.  169 

ipitiating  the  divine  favour  in  an  eminent  degree,. 
And  these  recommendations  have  produced  their 
effect.  It  does  not  appear  that,  before  the  times  of 
Christianity,  an  infirmary,  hospital,  or  public  chari- 
ty of  any  kind,  existed  in  the  world ;  whereas  most 
countries  in  Chri.stendom  have  long  abounded  with 
these  institutions.  To  which  may  be  added,  that  a 
spirit  of  private  liberality  seems  to  flourish  amidst  the 
decay  of  many  other  virtues  :  not  to  mention  the 
legal  provision  for  the  poor,  which  obtains  in  this 
country,  and  which  was  unknown  and  unthought  of 
by  the  most  humanized  nations  of  antiquity. 

St.  Paul  adds  upon  the  subject  an  excellent  direc- 
tion ;  and  which  is  practicable  by  all  who  have  any 
thing  to  give.  "  Upon  the  first  day  of  the  week 
(or  any  other  stated  time)  let  every  one  of  you  lay 
by  in  store,  as  God  hath  prospered  him.'*  By  which 
I  understand  St.  Paul  to  recommend  what  is  the  ve- 
ry thing  wanting  with  most  men,  the  being  charitable 
upon  a  plan  ;  that  is,  from  a  deliberate  comparison  of 
our  fortunes  with  the  reasonable  expenses  and  ex- 
pectation of  our  families,  to  compute  what  we  can 
spare,  and  to  lay  by  so  much  for  charitable  purposes 
in  some  mode  or  other.  The  mode  will  be  a  con- 
sideration afterwards. 

The  effect  which  Christianity  produced  upon  some 
of  its  first  converts,  was  such  as  might  be  looked  for 
from  a  divine  religion  coming  with  full  force  and 
miraculous  evidence  upon  the  consciences  of  man- 
kind. It  overwhelmed  all  worldly  considerations, 
in  the  expectation  of  a  more  important  existence. 
''  And  the  multitude  of  them  that  believed  were  of 
one  heart  and  one  soul ;  neither  said  any  of  them 
that  ought  of  the  things  which  he  possessed  was  his 
own  ;  but  they  had  all  things  in  common.- — Neither 
was  there  any  among  them  that  lacked  ;  for  as  many 
as  were  possessors  of  lands  or  houses  sold  them,  and 
brought  the  prices  of  the  things  that  were  sold,  and 
laid  them  down  at  the  Apostles*  feet ;  and  distribu- 


170  Pecuniary  Bounty, 

tion  was  made  unto  every  man  according  as  he  had 
need."     Acts,  iv.  32.  ^ 

Nevertheless,  this  community  of  goods,  however 
it  manifested  the  sincere  zeal  of  the  primitive  Chris- 
tians, is  no  precedent  for  our  imitation.  It  was 
confined  to  the  church  at  Jerusale?n  ;  continued  not 
long  there  ;  was  never  enjoined  upon  any  (Acts,  v. 
4) ;  and  although  it  might  suit  with  the  particular 
circumstances  of  a  small  and  select  society,  is  alto- 
gether impracticable  in  a  large  and  mixed  commu- 
nity. 

The  conduct  of  the  Apostles  upon  the  occasion 
deserves  to  be  noticed.  Their  followers  laid  down 
their  fortunes  at  their  feet :  but  so  far  were  they 
from  taking  advantage  of  this  unlimited  confidence 
to  enrich  themselves,  or  establish  their  own  author- 
ity, that  they  soon  after  got  rid  of  this  business,  as 
inconsistent  with  the  main  object  of  their  mission, 
and  transferred  the  custody  and  management  of  the 
public  fund,  to  deacons,  elected  to  that  office  by  the 
people  at  large.     (Acts  vi.) 

11.  The  manner  of  bestowing  bounty — or  the  differ" 
ent  kinds  of  charity. 

Every  question  between  the  different  kinds  of 
charity  supposes  the  sum  bestowed  to  be  the  same. 

There  are  three  kinds  of  charity  which  prefer  a 
claim  to  attention. 

The  first,  and  in  my  judgment,  one  of  the  best  is, 
to  give  stated  and  considerable  sums,  by  way  of  pen- 
sion or  annuity  to  individuals  or  families,  with  whose 
behaviour  and  di.^ tress  we  ourselves  are  acquainted o 
When  I  speak  of  considerable  sums,  I  mean  only,  that 
five  pounds,  or  any  other  sum,  given  at  once,  or  di- 
vided amongst  five  or  fewer  families,  will  do  more 
good  than  the  same  sum  distributed  amongst  a  great- 
er number  in  shillings  or  half  crowns ;  and  that, 
because  it  is  more  Hkely  to  be  properly  applied  by 
the  persons  who  receive  it.  A  poor  fellow,  who  can 
find  no  better  use  for  a  shilling  than  to  drink  his 


Pecuniary  Bounty »  171 

benefactor*s  health,  and  purchase  half  an  hour's  re- 
creation for  himself,  would  hardly  break  into  a  guin- 
ea for  any  such  purpose,  or  be  so  improvident,  as 
not  to  lay  it  by  for  an  occasion  of  importance,  e.  g, 
for  his  rent,  his  clothing,  fuel,  or  stock,  of  winter's 
provision.  It  is  a  still  greater  recommendation  of 
this  kind  of  charity,  that  pensions  and  annuities, 
which  are  paid  regularly,  and  can  be  expected  at  the 
time,  are  the  only  way  by  which  we  can  prevent 
one  part  of  the  poor  man's  sufferings,  the  dread  of 
want. 

2,  But  as  this  kind  of  charity  supposes  that  proper 
objects  of  such  expensive  benefactions  fall  within  our 
private  knowledge  and  observation,  which  does  not 
happen  to  all,  a  second  method  of  doing  good,  vi^hich 
is  in  overy  one's  power  who  has  the  money  to  spare, 
is  by  subscription  to  public  charities.  Public  chari- 
ties admit  of  this  argument  in  their  favour,  that 
your  money  goes  farther  towards  attaining  the  end 
for  which  it  is  given,  than  it  can  do  by  any  private 
and  separate  beneficence.  A  guinea,  for  example, 
contributed  to  an  infirmary,  becomes  the  means  of 
providing  one  patient  at  least  with  a  physician,  sur- 
geon, apothecary,  with  medichie,  diet,  lodging,  and 
suitable  attendance  ■;  which  is  not  the  tenth  part  of 
what  the  same  assistance,  if  it  could  be  procured  at  all, 
would  cost  to  a  sick  person  or  family  in  any  other 
situation. 

3.  The  last,  and,  compared  with  the  former,  the 
lowest  exertion  of  benevolence,  is  in  the  relief  of  beg- 
gars. Nevertheless,  I  by  no  means  approve  the  in- 
discriminate rejection  of  all  who  implore  our  alms  in 
this  way.  Some  may  perish  by  such  a  conduct.  Men 
are  sometimes  overtaken  by  distress,  for  which  all 
other  relief  would  come  too  late.  Beside  which,  res- 
olutions of  this  kind  compel  us  to  offer  such  violence 
to  our  humanity,  as  may  go  near,  in  a  little  while, 
to  suffocate  the  principle  itself  ;  which  is  a  very  seri- 
ous  consideration.    A  good  man,  if  he  do  not  sur- 


2*72  Pecuniary  Bounty. 

render  himself  to  his  feelings  without  reserve,  will 
at  least  lend  an  ear  to  importunitieSj  which  come  ac- 
companied with  outward  attestations  of  distress  ; 
^k.  and  after  a  patient  audience  of  the  complaint,  will 
direct  himself,  not  so  much  by  any  previous  resolu- 
tion which  he  may  have  formed  upon  the  subject, 
as  by  the  circumstances  and  credibility  of  the  account 
that  he  receives. 

There  are  other  species  of  charity  well  contrived 
to  make  the  money  expended  go  far  ;  such  as  keep- 
ing down  the  price  of  fuel  or  provision,  in  case  of 
a  monopoly  or  temporary  scarcity,  by  purchasing 
the  articles  at  the  best  market,  and  retailing  them  at 
prime  cost,  or  at  a  small  loss  ;  or  the  adding  of  a 
bounty  to  particular  species  of  labour,  when  the  price 
is  accidentally  depressed. 

The  proprietors  of  large  estates  have  it  in  their 
power  to  facilitate  the  maintenance,  and  thereby  to 
encourage  the  establishment  of  famihes  (which  is  one 
of  the  noblest  purposes  to  which  the  rich  and  great 
can  convert  their  endeavours)  by  building  cottages, 
splitting  farms,  erecting  manufactures,  cultivating 
wastes,€mbanking  the  sea, draining  marshes, and  other 
expedients,  which  the  situation  of  each  estate  points 
out.  If  the  profits  of  these  undertakings  do  not  re- 
pay the  expense,  let  the  authors  of  them  place  the 
difference  to  the  account  of  charity.  It  is  true  of 
almost  all  such  projects,  that  the  pubUc  is  a  gainer 
by  them  whatever  the  owner  be.  And  where  the 
loss  can  be  spared,  this  consideration  is  sufficient. 

It  is  become  a  question  of  some  importance,  under 
what  circumstances  works  of  charity  ought  to  be 
done  in  private,  and  when  they  may  be  made  public 
without  detracting  from  the  merit  of  the  action,  if 
indeed  they  ever  may  ;  the  Author  of  our  religion 
having  delivered  a  rule  upon  this  subject  which  seems 
to  enjoin  universal  secrecy  ;  "  When  thou  doest  alms, 
let  not  thy  left  hand  know  what  thy  right  hand  doth  ; 
that  thy  alms  may  be  in  secret,  and  thy  Father  which 


Pecuniary  Bountj.  2  75' 

seeth  in  secret,  himself  shall  reward  thee  openly." 
(Matt.  vi.  3,  4.)  From  the  preamble  to  this  prohibi- 
tion I  think  it,  however,  plain,  that  our  Saviour's 
sole  design  was  to  forbid  ostentation,  and  all  publish- 
ing of  good  works  which  proceed  from  that  motive.  • 
*'-  Take  heed  that  ye  do  not  your  alms  before  men,  to 
he  seen  of  them  ;  otherwise  ye  have  no  reward  of  your 
Father  which  is  in  heaven :  therefore,  when  thoui 
doest  thine  alms,  do  not  sound  a  trumpet  before  thee, 
as  the  hypocrites  do,  in  the  synagogues  and  in  the 
streets,  that  they  may  have  glory  of  men.  Verily  I  say 
unto  thee,  they  have  their  reward.*'  v.  2.  There 
are  motives  for  the  doing  our  alms  in  public  beside 
those  of  ostentation ;  with  which  therefore  our  Sa- 
viour's rule  has  no  concern  :  such  as  to  testify  our 
approbation  of  some  particular  species  of  charity, 
and  to  recommend  it  to  others  ;  to  take  off  the  pre- 
judice, which  the  want,  or,  which  is  the  same  thing, 
the  suppression  of  our  name  in  the  list  of  contributors 
might  excite  against  the  charity,  or  against  ourselves. 
And,  so  long  as  these  motives  are  free  from  any  mix- 
ture of  vanity,  they  are  in  no  danger  of  invading 
our  Saviour's  prohibition  ;  they  rather  seem  to  com- 
ply with  another  direction  which  he  has  left  us : 
"  Let  your  light  so  shine  before  men,  that  they  may 
see  your  good  v^orks,  and  glorify  your  Father  which 
is  in  heaven."  If  it  be  necessary  to  propose  a  precise 
distinction  upon  the  subject,  I  can  think  of  none  bet- 
ter than  the  following.  When  our  bounty  is  beyojid 
our  fortune  or  station,  that  is,  when  it  is  more 
than  could  be  expected  from  us,  our  charity  should 
be  private,  if  privacy  be  practicable  :  when  it  is  no*, 
more  than  might  be  expected,  it  may  be  public  :  for 
we  cannot  hope  to  influence  others  to  the  imitation 
of  extraordinary  generosity,  and  therefore  want,  in 
the  former  case,  the  only  justifiable  reason  for  mak- 
ing it  public. 

Having  thus  described  several  diflerent  exertion? 
of  charity,  it  may   not  be  improper  to  take  notice  «f 


114  Pecuniary  Bounty. 

a  species  of  liberality,  which  is  not  chanty  in  any 
sense  of  the  word  :  I  mean  the  giving  of  entertain- 
ments or  liquor,  for  the  sake  of  popularity  ;  or  the 
rewarding,  treating,  and  maintaining  the  compan- 
4|ions  of  our  diversions,  as  hunters,  shooters,  fishers, 
and  the  like.  I  do  not  say  that  this  is  criminal ;  I 
only  say  that  it  is  not  charity  ;  and  that  we  are  not 
to  suppose,  because  we  give^  and  give  to  the  poor,  that 
it  will  stand  in  the  place,  or  supersede  the  obligation, 
of  more  meritorious  and  disinterested  bounty. 

III.     The  pretences  by  which  men  excuse  ihemsehes 
from  giving  to  the  poor. 

1.  "  That  they  have  nothing  to  spare,'*  i.  e.  noth- 
ing for  which  they  have  not  provided  some  other 
use  ;  nothing  which  their  plan  of  expense,  together 
with  the  savings  they  have  resolved  to  lay  by,  will 
not  exhaust :  never  reflecting  whether  it  be  in  their 
poiver,  or  that  it  is  their  duty  to  retrench  their  ex- 
penses, and  contract  their  plan,  "  that  they  may  have 
to  give  to  them  that  need  ;"  or  rather  that  this 
ought  to  have  been  part  of  their  plan  originally. 

2.  "  That  they  have  families  of  their  own,  and  that 
charity  begins  at  home."  The  extent  of  this  plea 
will  be  considered,  when  we  come  to  explain  the 
duty  of  parents. 

3.  "  That  charity  does  not  consist  in  giving  mon- 
ey, but  in  benevolence,  philanthropy,  love  to  all 
mankind,  goodness  of  heart,  &c.'*  Hear  St.  James. 
*•'  If  a  brother  or  sister  be  naked,  and  destitute  of 
daily  food,  and  one  of  you  say  unto  them,  Depart 
in  peace,  be  ye  warmed  and  filled,  notwithstanding)'^ 
give  them  not  those  things  which  are  needful  to  the  bjdy, 
what  doth  it  profit?"  (James  ii.  15,   16.) 

4.  "  That  giving  to  the  poor  is  not  mentioned  in 
St.  Paul's  description  of  charity,  in  the  thirteenth 
chapter  of  his  first  Epistle  to  the  Corinthians."  This 
is  not  a  description  of  charity,  but  of  good-nature  ; 
and  it  is  not  necessary  that  every  duty  be  mentioned 
in  every  place. 

# 


Pecuniary  Bounty.  17^ 

5.  "  That  they  pay  the  poor  rates."  They  might 
as  well  allege  that  they  pay  their  debts  j  for  the 
poor  have  the  same  right  to  that  portion  of  a  man's 
property,  which  the  laws  assign  to  them,  that  the 
man  himself  has  to  the  remainder. 

6.  "  That  they  employ  many  poor  [persons  :" — 
for  their  own  sake,  not  the  poor's  j  otherwise  it  is  a 
good  plea. 

7.  "  That  the  poor  do  not  suffer  so  much  as  we 
imagine  ;  that  education  and  habit  have  reconciled 
them  to  the  evils  of  their  condition,  and  make  them 
easy  under  it."  Habit  can  never  reconcile  human 
nature  to  the  extremities  of  cold,  hunger,  and  thirsty 
any  more  than  it  can  reconcile  the  hand  to  the 
touch  of  a  red-hot  iron  :  besides,  the  question  is  not, 
how  unhappy  any  one  is,  but  how  much  more  happy 
we  can  make  him. 

8.  "  That  these  people,  give  them  what  you  will, 
will  never  thank  you,  or  think  of  you  for  it."  In 
the  first  place,  this  ^is  not  true :  in  t^ie  second  placcj 
it  was  not  for  the  sake  of  their  thanks  that  you  re- 
lieved them. 

9.  "  That  we  are  liable  to  be  imposed  upon."  If 
a  due  inquiry  be  made,  our  merit  is  the  same  :  be- 

.  side  that,  the  distress  is  generally  real,  although  the 
cause  be  untruly  stated. 

10.  "  That  they  should  apply  to  their  parishes." 
This  is  not  always  practicable :  to  which  we  may- 
add,  that  there  are  many  requisites  to  a  comfortable 
subsistence,  which  parish  relief  docs  not  supply  ;  and 
that  there  are  some,  who  would  suffer  almost  as 
much  from, receiving  parish  relief,  as  by  the  want 
of  it  ;  and  lastly,  that  there  are  many  modes  of 
charity,  to  which  this  answer  does  not  relate  at  all 

11.  "That  giving  money  encourages  idleness 
and  vagrancy."  This  is  true  only  of  injudicious  and 
indiscriminate  generosity. 

12.  "  That  we  have  too  many  objects  of  chanty 
at   home,  to  bestow  any  thing  upon  strangers  ;  or 


1 76  Resentment. — Anger  o 

that  there  are  other  charities,  which  are  more  usefuf, 
or  stand  in  greater  need.'*  The  value  of  this  excuse 
depends  entirely  upon  the  fact,  whether  we  actually 
relieve  those  neighbouring  objects,  and  contribute  to 
those  other  charities. 

Beside  all  these  excuses,  pride,  or  prudery,  or 
delicacy,  or  love  of  ease,  keep  one  half  of  the  world 
out  of  the  way  of  observing  what  the  other  half 
suffer. 


CHAPTER  VL 

RESENTMENT. 

Resentment  may  be  distinguished  into 
anger  and  revenge. 

By  anger,  I  mean  the  pain  we  suffer  upon  the  re- 
ceipt of  an  injury  or  affront,  with  the  usual  effects  of 
that  pain  upon  ourselves. 

By  revenge,  the  inflicting  of  pain  upon  the  person 
who  has  injured  or  offended  us,  farther  than  the  just 
ends  of  punishment  or  reparation  require. 

Anger  prompts  to  revenge  ;  but  it  is  possible  to 
suspend  the  effect,  when  we  cannot  altogether  quell 
the  principle.  We  are  bound  also  to  endeavour  to 
qualify  and  correct  the  principle  itself.  So  that  our 
duty  requires  two  different  applications  of  the  mind  : 
and,  for  that  reason,  anger  and  revenge  may  be  con» 
sidered  separately. 


CHAPTER  VII. 
ANGER. 


jjE  ye  angry  and  sin  not  ;'*  therefore  all  an- 
ger is  not  sinful  :  I  suppose,  because  some  degree  of 
it,  and  upon  some  occasions,  is  inevitable. 


Anger,  177, 

It  becomes  sinful,  or  contradicts,  however,  the  rule 
of  scripture,  when  it  is  conceived  upon  slight  and  in- 
adequate provocations,  and  when  it  continues  long. 

1.  When  it  is  conceived  upon  slight  provocations  ; 
for,  "  charity  sufFereth  long,  is  not  easily  provoked." 
"  Let  every  man  be  slow  to  anger."  Peace,  long 
suffering,  gentleness,  meekness,  are  enumerated 
among  the  fruits  of  the  Spirit,  Gal.  v.  22.  and  com- 
pose the  true  Christian  temper,  as  to  this  article  of 
duty. 

2.  When  it  continues  long  ;  for,  "  let  not  the  sun 
go  down  upon  your  wrath.'* 

These  precepts,  and  all  reasoning  indeed  upon 
the  subject,  suppose  the  passion  of  anger  to  be  with- 
in our  power  :  and  this  power  consists  not  so  much 
in  any  faculty  we  possess  of  appeasing  our  wrath  at 
the  time  (for  we  are  passive  under  the  smart  which 
an  injury  or  affront  occasions,  and  all  we  can  then 
do  is  to  prevent  its  breaking  out  into  action)  as  in 
so  moHfying  our  minds  by  habits  of  just  reflection, 
as  to  be  less  irritated  by  impressions  of  injury,  and  to 
be  sooner  pacified. 

Reflections  proper  for  this  purpose,  and  which 
may  be  called  the  sedatives  of  anger,  are  the  follow- 
ing:  the  possibility  of  mistaking  the  motives  from 
which  the  conduct  that  offends  us  proceeded ;  how 
often  our  offences  have  been  the  effect  of  inadver- 
tency, when  they  were  construed  into  indications  of 
malice  ;  the  inducement  which  prompted  our  ad- 
versary to  act  as  he  did,  and  how  powerfully  the 
same  inducement  has,  at  one  time  or  other,  operated 
upon  ourselves  ;  that  he  is  suffering  perhaps  under 
a  contrition,  which  he  is  ashamed,  or  wants  oppor- 
tunity, to  confess  ;  and  how  ungenerous  it  is  to  tri- 
umph by  coldness  or  insult  over  a  spirit  already  hum- 
bled in  secret ;  that  the  returns  of  kindness  are  sweet, 
and  that  there  is  neither  honour,  nor  virtue,  nor 
use  in  resisting  them — for  some  persons  think  them- 
selves bound  to  cherish  and  keep  alive  their  indig- 


178  Anger. 

nation,  when  they  find  it  dying  away  of  itself.  We 
may  remember  that  others  have  their  passions,  their 
prejudices,  their  favourite  aims,  their  fears,  their 
cautions,  their  interests,  their  sudden  impulses,  their 
varieties  of  apprehension,  as  well  as  we  :  we  may 
recollect  what  hath  sometimes  passed  in  our  own 
minds,  when  we  have  got  on  the  wrong  side  of  a 
quarrel,  ajid  imagine  the  same  to  be  passing  in  our 
adversary's  mind  now  ;  when  we  become  sensible  of 
our  misbehaviour,  what  palliations  we  perceived  in 
it,  and'  expected  others  to  perceive  :  how  we  were 
aifected  by  the  kindness,  and  felt  the  superiority  of 
a  generous  reception  and  ready  forgiveness  ;  how 
persecution  revived  our  spirits  with  our  enmity,  and 
seemed  to  justify  the  conduct  in  ourselves,  which 
■we  before  blamed.  Add  to  this,  the  indecency  of 
extravagant  anger  ;  how  it  renders  us,  whilst  it 
lasts,  the  scorn  and  sport  of  all  about  us,  of  which 
it  leaves  us,  when  it  ceases,  sensible  and  ashamed  ; 
the  inconveniences,  and  irretrievable  misconduct 
into  which  our  irascibility  has  sometimes  betrayed 
us  J  the  friendships  it  has  lost  us  ;  the  distresses  and 
embarrassments  in  which  we  have  been  involved  by 
it ;  and  the  sore  repentance  which  on  one  account 
or  other  it  always  costs  us. 

But  the  reflection  calculated  above  all  others  to  al- 
lay the  haughtiness  of  temper  which  is  ever  finding 
out  provocations,  and  which  renders  anger  so  impetu- 
ous, is  that  which  the  gospel  proposes  ;  namely,  that 
we  ourselves  are,  or  shortly  shall  be,  supphants  for 
mercy  and  pardon  at  the  judgment  seat  of  God. 
Imagine  our  secret  sins  disclosed  and  brought  to 
light  ;  imagine  us  thus  humbled  and  exposed  ;  trem- 
bling under  the  hand  of  God  ;  casting  ourselves  on 
his  compassion  ;  crying  out  for  mercy  :  imagine  such 
a  creature  to  talk  of  satisfaction  and  revenge  ;  refus- 
ing to  be  entreated,  disdaining  to  forgive  ;  extreme 
to  mark  and  to  resent  what  is  done  amiss  ;  imairine 


Revcfige.  179 

I  say  this,  and  you   can  hardly  feign  to  yourself  an 
instance  of  more  impious  and  unnatural  arrogance. 

The  point  is  to  habituate  ourselves  to  these  reflec- 
tions, till  they  rise  up  of  their  own  accord  when  they 
are  wanted,  that  is,  instantly  upon  the  receipt  of  an 
injury  or  affront,  and  with  such  force  and  colouring, 
as  both  to  mitigate  the  paroxisms  of  our  anger  at  the 
time,  and  at  length  to  produce  an  alteration  in  the 
temper  and  disposition  itself. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 
REVENGE. 

/\LL  pain  occasioned  to  another  in  conse- 
quence of  an  offence,  or  injury  received  from  him, 
farther  than  what  is  calculated  to  procure  repara- 
tion, or  promote  the  just  ,ends  of  punishment,  is  so 
much  revenge. 

There  can  be  no  difficulty  in  knowing  when  we 
occasion  pain  to  another  ;  nor  much  in  distinguish- 
ing whether  we  do  so,  with  a  view  only  to  the  ends 
of  punishment,  or  from  revenge  ;  for  in  the  one 
case  we  proceed  with  reluctance,  in  the  other  with 
jileasure. 

It  is  highly  probable  from  the  light  of  nature,  that 
a  passion,  which  seeks  its  gratification  immediately 
and  expressly  in  giving  pain,  is  disagreeable  to  the 
benevolent  will  and  counsels  of  the  Creator.  Other 
passions  and  pleasures  may,  and  often  do,  produce 
pain  to  some  one  ;  but  then  pain  is  not,  as  it  is 
here,  the  object  of  the  passion,  and  the  direct  cause 
of  the  pleasure.  This  probability  is  converted  into 
certainty,  if  we  give  credit  to  the  authority  which 
dictated  the  several  passages  of  the  Christian  scrip- 
tures that  condemn  revenge,  or,  what  is  the  same 
thing,  which  enjoin  forgiveness. 


18D  Revenge. 

We  will  set  down  the  principle  of  these  passages  ; 
and  endeavour  to  collect  from  them,  what  conduct 
upon  the  whole  is  allowed  towards  an  enemy,  and 
what  is  forbidded. 

"  If  ye  forgive  men  their  trespasses,  your  heaven- 
ly Father  will  also  forgive  you  ;  but  if  ye  forgive 
not  men  their  trespasses,  neither  will  your  Father 
forgive  your  trespasses."  "  And  his  lord  was  wroth, 
■and  delivered  him  to  the  tormentors,  till  he  should 
pay  all  that  was  due  unto  him :  so  likewise  shall  my 
heavenly  Father  do  also  unto  you,  if  ye  from  your 
hearts  forgive  not  every  one  his  brother  their  tres- 
passes." "  Put  on  bowels  of  mercy,  kindness,  hum- 
bleness of  mind,  meekness,  long  suffering,  forbear^ 
ing  one  another,  forgiving  one  another  ;  if  any  man 
have  a  quarrel  against  any,  even  as  Christ  forgave 
you,  so  also  do  ye."  "  Be  patient  towards  all  men  ; 
see  that  none  render  evil  for  evil  unto  any  man." 
"  Avenge  not  yourselves,  but  rather  give  place  unto 
wrath  :  for  it  is  written,  Vengeance  is  mine,  I  will 
repay,  saith  the  Lord.  Therefore,  if  thine  enemy 
hunger,  feed  him  ;  if  he  thirst,  give  him  drink  ;  for, 
in  so  doing,  thou  shalt  heap  coals  of  fire  on  his  head. 
Be  not  overcome  of  evil,  but  overcome  evil  with 
good."* 

I  think  it  evident,  from  some  of  these  passages 
taken  separately,  and  still  more  so  from  all  of  them 
together,  that  revenge^  as  described  in  the  beginning 
of  this  Chapter,  is  forbidden  in  every  degree,  under 
all  forms,  and  upon  every  occasion.  We  are  like- 
wise forbidden  to  refuse  to  an  enemy  even  the  most 
imperfect  right ;  "  if  he  hunger,  feed  him ;  if  he 
thirst,  give  him  drink,"t  which  are  examples  of  im- 
perfect rights.      If  one  who  has  offended  us,  solicit 

*  Matth.  vi.  14.  15.  xviii.  SI,  35.  Col.  iil.  12,  13.  Thess.  v.  14,  15. 
Rom.  xii.  19,  20,  21, 

\  See  also  Exodus  xxiii.  4.  "  If  thou  meet  thine  enemy's  ox,  or  his  ass,  go- 
ing astray,  thou  shalt  surely  hring  it  back  to  him  again;  if  thou  see  the  ass  of 
him  that  hateth  thee  lying  under  his  burden,  and  would  forbear  to  helphini, 
thou  shah  surety  help  with  him." 


Revenge.  i8i 

from  us  a  vote  to  which  his  qualifications  entitle 
him,  we  may  not  refuse  it  from  motives  of  resent- 
ment, or  the  remembrance  of  what  we  have  suffered 
at  his  hands.  His  right,  and  our  obligation,  which 
follows  the  right,  are  not  altered  by  his  enmity  to  us, 
or  by  ours  to  him. 

On  the  other  hand,  I  do  not  conceive,  that  these 
prohibitions  were  intended  to  interfere  with  the 
punishment  or  prosecution  of  public  offenders.  In 
the  eighteenth  chapter  of  St.  Matthew,  our  Saviour 
tells  his  disciples,  "  If  thy  brother  who  has  trespassed 
against  thee  neglect  to  hear  the  church,  let  him  be  un- 
to thee  as  an  heathen^man,  and  a  publican."  Imme- 
diately after  this,  when  St.  Peter  asked  him,  "  How 
oft  shall  my  brother  sin  against  me,  and  I  forgive 
him  ?  till  s,e\en  times  ?"  Christ  replied,  "  I  say  not 
unto  thee  until  seven  times,  but  until  seventy  times 
seven  ;"  that  is,  as  often,  as  he  repeats  the  offence. 
From  these  two  adjoining  passages  compared  togeth- 
er, we  are  authorized  to  conclude  that  the  forgive- 
ness of  an  enemy  is  not  inconsistent  with  the  pro- 
ceeding against  him  as  a  public  offender  ;  and  that 
the  discipline  established  in  religious  or  civil  societies, 
for  the  restraint  or  punishment  of  criminals,  ought 
to  be  upheld. 

If  the  magistrate  be  not  tied  down  by  these  prohi- 
bitions from  the  execution  of  his  office,  neither  is 
the  prosecutor  ;  for  the  office  of  the  prosecutor  is  as 
necessary  as  that  of  the  magistrate. 

Nor,  by  parity  of  reason,  are  private  persons  with- 
held from  the  correction  of  vice,  when  it  is  in  their 
power  to  exercise  it;  provided  they  be  assured  that: 
it  is  the  guilt  which  provokes  them,  and  not  the  in- 
jury ;  and  at  their  motives  are  pure  from  all  mix- 
ture and  every  particle  of  that  spirit  which  delights 
and  triumphs  in  the  humiliation  of  an  adversary. 

Thus,  it  is  no  breach  of  Christian  charity,  to  with- 
draw our  company  or  civility  when  the  same  tends 
to  discountenance  any  vicious  practice.     This  is  one 


182  ^evejige. 

branch  of  that  extrajudicial  discipline,  which  supplies 
the  defects  and  the  remissness  of  law  ;  and  is  express- 
ly authorized  by  St.  Paul  (1  Cor.  v.  11.)  "But 
now  I  have  written  unto  you,  not  to  keep  company, 
if  any  man,  that  is  called  a  brother  be  a  fornicator, 
or  covetous,  or  an  idolator,  or  a  railer,  or  a  drunk- 
ard, or  an  extortioner  ;  with  such  an  one  no  not  to 
eat."  The  use  of  this  association  against  vice  contin- 
ues to  be  experienced  in  one  remarkable  instance, 
and  might  be  extended  with  good  effect  to  others. 
The  confederacy  amongst  women  of  character,  to  ex- 
clude from  their  society  kept  mistresses  and  prosti- 
tutes, contributes  more  perhaps  to  discourage  that 
condition  of  life,  and  prevents  greater  numbers  from 
entering  into  it,  than  all  the  considerations  of  pru- 
dence and  religion  put  together. 

We  are  likewise  allowed  to  practise  so  much  cau- 
tion, as  not  to  put  ourselves  in  the  way  of  injury, 
or  invite  the  repetition  of  it.  If  a  servant  or  trades- 
man has  cheated  us,  we  are  not  bound  to  trust  him 
again ;  for  this  is  to  encourage  him  in  his  dishonest 
practices,  which  is  doing  him  much  harm. 

Where  a  benefit  can  be  conferred  only  upon  one 
or  few,  and  the  choice  of  the  person,  upon  whom  it  is 
conferred,  is  a  proper  object  of  favour,  we  are  at  lib- 
erty to  prefer  those  who  have  not  offended  us  to  those 
who  have  :  the  contrary  being  no  where  required. 

Christ,  v;ho,  as  hath  been  well  demonstrated,  *esti- 
mated  virtues  by  their  solid  utility,  and  not  by  their 
fashion  or  popularity,  prefers  this  of  the  forgiveness 
of  injuries  to  every  other.  He  enjoins  it  ofcener  ; 
with  more  earnestness  ;  under  a  greater  variety  of 
forms  ;  and  with  this  weighty  and  peculiar  circum- 
stance, that  the  forgiveness  of  others  is  the  condition 
upon  which  alone  we  are  to  expect,  or  even  ask, 
from  God,  forgiveness  for  ourselves.  And  this  pref- 
erence is  justified  by  the  superior  importance  of  the 

*  See  a  View  of  the  Internal  Fvitlenre  of  tlja  ChrUtian  Re'ision. 


Duelling.  jg3 

virtue  itself.  The  feuds  and  animosities  in  families 
and  between  neighbours,  which  disturb  the  inter- 
course of  human  life,  and  collectively  compose  half 
the  misery  of  it,  have  their  foundation  in  the  want 
of  a  forgiving  temper  ;  and  can  never  cease,  but  by 
the  exercise  of  this  virtue,  on  one  side,  or  on  both. 


CHAPTER    IX, 

DUELLING. 

JDUELLING  as  a  punishment  is  absurd  ;  be- 
cause it  is  an  equal  chance,  whether  the  punishment 
fall  upon  the  offender,  or  the  person  offended.  Nor  is 
it  much  better  as  a  reparation  ;  it  being  difficult  to 
explain  in  what  the  satisfaction  consists,  or  how  it 
tends  to  undo  the  injury,  or  to  afford  a  compensation 
for  the  damage  already  sustained. 

The  truth  is,  it  is  not  considered  as  either.  A  law 
of  honour  having  annexed  the  imputation  of  coward- 
ice to  patience  under  an  affront,  challenges  are  given 
and  accepted  with  no  other  design  than  to  prevent  or 
wipe  oS  this  suspicion  ;  without  malice  against  the 
adversary,  generally  without  a  wish  to  destroy  him, 
or  any  other  concern  than  to  preserve  the  duellist's 
own  reputation  and  reception  in  the  world. 

The  unreasonableness  of  this  rule  of  manners  is 
one  consideration  ;  the  duty  and  conduct  of  individ- 
uals, whilst  such  a  rule  exists,  is  another. 

As  to  which,  the  proper  and  single  question  is  this, 
whether  a  regard  for  our  own  reputation  is  or  is  not 
sufficient  to  justify  the  taking  away  the  life  of  an- 
other ? 

Murder  is  forbidden  ;  and  wherever  human  life 
is  deliberately  taken  away,  otherwise  than  by  pub  :c 
authority,  there  is  murder.     The  value  and  security 
z 


184*  Duelling. 

of  human  life  makes  this  rule  necessary  ;  for  I  do  not 
see  what  other  idea  or  definition  of  murder  can  be 
admitted,  which  will  not  let  in  so  much  private  vio- 
lence, as  to  render  society  a  scene  of  peril  and  blood- 
shed. 

If  unauthorized  laws  of  honour  be  allowed  to  cre- 
ate exceptions  to  divine  prohibitions,  there  is  an  end 
of  all  morality  as  founded  in  the  will  of  the  Deity  ; 
and  the  obligation  of  every  duty  may  at  one  time  ot  ^ 
other  be  discharged  by  the  caprice  and  fluctuations 
of  fashion. 

"  But  a  sense  of  shame  is  so  much  torture  ;  and 
no  relief  presents  itself  otherwise  than  by  an  attempt 
upon  the  life  of  our  adversary."  What  then  ?  The 
distress  which  men  suffer  by  the  want  of  money  is 
oftentimes  extreme,  and  no  resource  can  be  discover- 
ed but  that  of  removing  a  life,  which  stands  between 
the  distressed  person  and  his  inheritance.  The  mo- 
tive in  this  case  is  as  urgent,  and  the  means  much 
the  same,  as  in  the  former  :  yet  this  case  finds  no 
advocate. 

Take  away  the  circumstance  of  the  duellist's  expos- 
ing his  own  life,  and  it  becomes  assassination  :  add' 
this  circumstance,  and  what  difference  does  it  make  ? 
None  but  this,  that  fewer  perhaps  will  imitate  the 
example,  and  human  life  will  be  somewhat  more 
safe,  when  it  cannot  be  attacked  without  equal  dan- 
ger to  the  aggressor's  own.  Experience,  however, 
proves  that  there  is  fortitude  enough  in  most  men  to 
undertake  this  hazard  ;  and  were  it  otherwise,  the 
defence,  at  best,  would  be  only  that  which  a  high- 
wayman or  housebreaker  might  plead,  whose  attempt 
had  been  so  daring  and  desperate,  that  few  were 
likely  to  repeat  the  same. 

In  expostulating  with  the  duellist  I  all  along  sup- 
pose his  adversary  to  falL  Which  supposition  I  am 
at  liberty  to  make,  because,  if  he  have  no  right  to 
kill  his  adversary,  he  has  none  to  attempt  it. 


Duelling*  1 35 

In  return,  I  forbear  from  applying  to  the  case  of 
duelling  the  Christian  principle  of  the  forgiveness  of 
injuries  ;  because  it  is  possible  to  suppose  the  injury 
to  be  forgiven,  and  the  duellist  to  act  entirely  from  a 
concern  for  his  own  reputation  :  where  this  is  not 
the  case,  the  guilt  of  duelling  is  manifest,  and  is 
greater. 

In  this  view  it  seems  unnecessary  to  distinguish  be- 
tween him  who  gives,  and  him  who  accepts  a  chal- 
lenge :  for,  on  the  one  hand,  they  incur  an  equal 
hazard  of  destroying  life  ;  and,  on  the  other,  both 
act  upon  the  same  persuasion,  that  what  they  do  is 
necessary,  in  order  to  recover  or  preserve  the  good 
opinion  of  the  world. 

Public  opinion  is  not  easily  controlled  by  civil  in- 
stitutions :  for  which  reason  I  question  whether  any 
regulations  can  be  contrived  of  sufficient  force  to 
suppress  or  change  the  rule  of  honour,  which  stigma- 
tizes all  scruples  about  duelling  with  the  reproach  of 
cowardice. 

The  insufficiency  of  the  redress  which  the  law  of 
the  land  affords,  for  those  injuries  which  chiefly  af- 
fect a  man  in  nis  sensibility  and  ruputation,  tempts 
many  to  redress  themselves.  Prosecutions  for  such 
offences,  by  the  trifling  damages  that  are  recovered, 
serve  only  to  make  the  sufferer  more  ridiculous. 
This  ought  to  be  remedied. 

For  the  army,  where  the  point  of  honour  is  culti- 
vated with  exquisite  attention  and  refinement,  I 
would  establish  a  Court  of  Honour^  with  a  power  of 
awarding  those  submissions  and  acknowledgments, 
which  it  is  geneally  the  purpose  of  a  challenge  to 
obtain  ;  and  it  might  grow  into  a  fashion,  with  per- 
sons of  rank  of  all  professions,  to  refer  their  quar- 
rels to  this  tribunal. 

Duelling,  as  the  law  now  stands,  can  seldom  be 
overtaken  by  legal  punishment.  The  challenge,  ap- 
pointment, and  otheiT  previous  circumstances,  which 
indicate   the    intention  with   which  the  combatants 


1 86  Litigation, 

met,  being  suppressed,  nothing  appears  to  a  court  of 
justice,  but  the  actual  rencounter.  And  if  a  person 
be  slain  when  actually  fighting  with  his  adversary, 
the  law  deems  his  death  nothing  more  than  man- 
slaughter. 


CHAPTER     X. 
LITIGATION. 

IF  it  be  possible  live  peaceably  with  all  men  ;" 
which  precept  contains  an  indirect  confession  that  this 
is  not  always  possible. 

1' he  instances*  in  the  fifth  chapter  of  St.  Matthew 
are  rather  to  be  understood  as  proverbial  methods  of 
describing  the  general  duties  of  forgiveness  and  be- 
nevolence, and  the  temper  which  we  ought  to  aim  at 
acquiring,  than  as  directions  to  be  specifically  observ- 
ed or  of  themselves  of  and  great  importance  to  be 
observe^.  The  first  of  these  is,  "  if  thine  enemy 
smite  thee  on  thy  right  cheek,  turn  to  him  the  other 
also  ;"  yet,  when  one  of  the  officers  struck  Jesus  with 
the  palm  of  his  hand,  we  find  Jesus  rebuking  him 
for  the  outrage  with  becoming  indignation:  *'If  I  have 
spoken  evil,  bear  witness  of  the  evil ;  but  if  well, 
why  smitest  thou  me  r"  (John  xviii.  22.)  It  may 
be  observe  likewise,  that  the  several  examples  are 
drawn  from  instances  of  small  and  tolerable  injuries. 
A  rule  which  forbade  all  opposition  to  injury,  or 
defence  aganist  it,  could  have  no  other  effect,  than 
to  put  the  good  in  subjection  to  the  bad,  and  de- 
liver one  half  of  mankind  to  the  depredation  of 
the  other  half :  which  must  be  the  case,  so  long  as 
some  considered  themselves  as  bound  by  such  a  rule, 

*"  whoso;  ver  shall  smitetliee  on  thy  right  cheek,  turn  to  him  the  other 
also  ;  and  if  any  man  will  sue  thee  at  the  law,  and  take  away  thy  coat,  let 
feim  have  thy  cloak  also ;  and  whosoever  shall  compel  the  tc  go  a  mile,  go 
with  him  twain." 


Litigation,  187 

whilst  others  despised  it.  St.  Paul,  though  no  one 
inculcated  forgiveness  and  forbearance  with  a  deeper 
sense  of  the  value  and  obligation  of  these  virtues, 
did  not  interpret  either  of  them  to  require  an  unre- 
sisting submi>sion  to  every  contumely,  or  a  neglect 
of  the  means  of  safety  and  self-defence.  He  took 
refuge  in  the  lavt-s  of  his  country,  and  in  the  privi- 
leges of  a  Roman  citizen,  from  the  conspiracy  of  the 
Jeivs^  (Acts  XXV.  1  i .)  and  from  the  clandestine  vi- 
olence of  the  chief  captain.  (Acts  xxii.  25.)  And 
yet  this  is  the  same  Apostle  vvho  reproved  the  litigi- 
ousness  of  his  Corinthian  converts  with  so  much 
severity.  "Now,  therefore,  there  is  utterly  a  fault 
among  you,  because  ye  go  to  law  one  with  another ; 
why  do  ye  not  rather  take  wrong  ?  why  do  ye  not 
rather  suffer  yourselves  to  be  deirauded  ?" 

On  the  one  hand,  therefore,  Christianity  excludes 
all  vindictive  motives,  and  all  frivolous  causes  of 
prosecution  j  so  that  where  the  injury  is  small,  where 
no  good  purpose  of  public  example  is  answered,  where 
forbearance  is  not  likely  to  invite  a  repetition  of  the 
injury,  or  where  the  expense  of  an  action  becomes  a 
punishment  too  severe  for  the  offence  j  there  tiie 
Christian  is  withholden  by  the  authority  of  his  relig- 
oin  from  going  to  law. 

On  the  other  hand,  a  law-suit  is  inconsistent  with 
no  rule  of  the  Gospel,  when  it  is  instituted, 

1.  For  the  establishing  of  some  important  right. 

2.  For  the  procuring  a  compensation  for  some 
;:.onsiderable  damage- 

3.  For  the  preventing  of  future  injury. 

But  since  it  is  supposed  to  be  undertaken  simply 
with  a  view  to  the  ends  of  justice  and  safety,  the  pros" 
ecutor  of-  the  action  is  bound  to  confine  himself  to 
the  cheapest  process  which  will  accomplish  these  ends, 
as  well  as  to  consent  to  any  peaceable  expedient  for 
the  same  purpose  ;  as  to  ^  reference,  in  which  the  ar- 
bitrators can  do,  what   the   law  cannot,    divide  the 


188  Litigation. 

damage,  when  the  fault  is  mutual ;  or  to  a  compoun- 
ding of  the  dispute,  hy  accepting  a  compensation  in  the 
gross,  without  entering  into  articles  and  items,  which 
it  is  often  very  difficult  to  adjust  separately. 

As  to  the  rest,  the  duty  of  the  contending  parties 
may  be  expressed  in  the  following  directions  : 

Not  by  appeals  to  prolong  a  suit  against  your  own 
conviction. 

Not  to  undertake  or  defend  a  suit  against  a  poor 
adversary,  or  render  it  more  dilatory  or  expensive 
than  necessary,  with  a  hope  of  intimidating  or  weary- 
ing him  out  by  the  expense. 

Not  to  influence  cvidenee  by  authority  or  expecta- 
tion. 

Nor  to  stifle  any  in  your  possession,  although 
it  make  against  you. 

Hitherto  we  have  treated  of  civil  actions.  In 
criminal  prosecutions  the  private  injury  should  be 
forgotten,  and  the  prosecutor  pioceed  with  the  same 
temper,  and  upon  the  same  motives,  as  the  magis- 
trate ;  the  one  being  a  necessary  minister  of  justice 
as  well  as  the  other,  and  both  bound  to  direct  their 
conduct  by  a  dispassionate  care  of  the  public  welfare. 

In  whatever  degree  the  punishment  of  an  offender 
is  conducive,  or  his  escape  dangerous,  to  the  interest 
of  the  community,  in  the  same  degree  is  the  party 
against  whom  the  crime  was  committed  bound  to 
prosecute,  because  such  prosecutions  must  in  their 
nature  originate  from  the  sufferer. 

Therefore,  great  public  crimes,  as  robberies,  for- 
geries, and  the  like^  ought  not  to  be  spared,  from  an 
apprehension  of  trouble  or  expense  in  carrying  on 
the  prosecution,  from  false  shame,  or  misplaced  com« 
passion. 

There  are  many  off"ences,  such  as  nuisances,  neg- 
lect of  public  roads,  forestalling,  engrossing,  smug- 
gling, sabbath-breaking,  profaneness,  drunkenness, 
prostitution,  the  keeping  of  lewd  or  disorderly  houses, 
the  writing,  publishing,  or  exposing  to  sale  lasciv- 


Gratitude,  i  89 

ious  books  or  pictures,  with  some  others,  the  prose- 
cution of  which  being  of  equal  concern  to  the  whole 
neighbourhood,  cannot  be  charged  as  a  peculiar  ob- 
ligation upon  any. 

Nevertheless,  there  is  great  merit  in  the  person 
who  undertakes  such  prosecutions  upon  proper  mo- 
tives ;  which  amounts  to  the  same  thing. 

The  character  of  an  infor7ner  is  in  this  country  un- 
deservedly odious.  But  where  any  public  advantage 
is  likely  to  be  attained  by  informations,  or  other  ac- 
tivity in  promoting  the  execution  of  the  laws,  a  good 
man  will  despise  a  prejudice  founded  in  no  just  rea- 
son, or  will  acquit  himself  of  the  imputation  of 
interested  designs  by  giving  away  his  share  of  the 
penalty. 

On  the  other  hand,  prosecutions  for  the  sake  of 
the  reward  or  for  the  gratification  of  private  enmity, 
where  the  offence  produces  no  public  mischief,  or 
where  it  arises  from  ignorance  or  inadvertency,  are 
reprobated  under  the  general  description  oi  applying 
a  rule  of  law  to  a  purpose  for  luhich  it  was  not  intendeds. 
Under  which  description  may  be  ranked  an  officious 
revival  of  the  laws  against  popish  priests,  and  dissent- 
ing teachers. 


CHAPTER     XL 
GRATITUDE. 

JliXAMPLES  of  ingratitude  check  and  discour- 
age voluntary  beneficence :  and  in  this  the  mischief 
of  ingratitude  consists.  Nor  is  the  mischief  small;  for 
after  all  is  done  that  can  be  done,  towards  providing 
for  the  public  happiness,  by  prescribing  rules  of 
justice,  and  enforcing  the  observation  of  them  by 
penalties  or  compulsion,  much  must  be  left  to  those 
offices  of  kindness,  which  men  remain  at  liberty  tc 


190  Gratitude. 

exert  or  withhold.  Now  not  only  the  choice  of  the 
objects,  but  the  quantity  and  even  the  existence  of 
this  sort  of  kindness  in  the  world,  depends,  in  a 
great  measure,  upon  the  return  which  it  receives ; 
and  this  is  a  consideration  of  general  importance. 

A  second  reason  for  cuhivatingj  a  grateful  temper 
in  ourselves  is  the  following.  The  same  principle, 
which  is  touched  with  the  kindness  of  a  human  bene- 
factor, is  capable  of  being  affected  by  the  divine  good- 
ness, and  of  becoming,  under  the  influence  of  that 
affection,  a  source  of  the  purest  and  most  exalted 
virtue.  The  love  of  God  is  the  sublimest  gratitude. 
It  is  a  mistake,  therefore,  to  imagine  that  this  virtue 
is  omitted  in  the  Christian  scriptures ;  for  every 
precept,  which  commands  us  "  to  love  God,  because 
he  first  loved  us,"  presupposes  the  principle  of  grati- 
tude, and  directs  it  to  its  proper  object. 

It  is  impossible  to  particularize  the  several  expres- 
sions of  gratitude,  in  as  much  as  they  vary  with  the 
character  and  situation  of  the  benefactor,  and  with 
the  opportunities  of  the  person  obliged ;  which  va- 
riety admits  of  no  bounds. 

It  may  be  observed,  however,  that  gratitude  can 
never  oblige  a  man  to  do  what  is  wrong,  and  what 
by  consequence  he  is  previously  obliged  not  to  do. 
It  is  no  ingratitude  to  refuse  to  do,  what  we  cannot 
reconcile  to  any  apprehensions  of  our  duty  ;  but  it 
is  ingratitude  and  hypocrisy  together,  to  pretend 
diis  reason,  when  it  is  not  the  real  one :  and  the  fre- 
quency of  such  pretences  has  brought  this  apology 
for  non-compliance  with  the  will  of  a  benefactor  into 
unmerited  disgrace. 

It  has  long  been  accounted  a  violation  of  delicacy 
and  generosity  to  upbraid  men  with  the  favours  they 
have  received;  but  it  argues  a  total  destitution  of 
both  these  qualities,  as  well  as  of  moral  probity,  to 
take  advantage  of  that  ascendency,  which  the  con- 
ferring of  benefits  justly  creates,  to  draw  or  drive 
those  whom  we  have  obliged  into  mean  or  dishonest 
compliances. 


Slander »  191 

CHAPTER  XII. 

SLANDER. 

Speaking  is  acting,  both  in  philosophical 
strictness,  and  as  to  all  moral  purposes  ;  for,  if  the 
mischief  and  motive  of  our  conduct  be  the  same, 
the  means  which  we  use  make  no  difference. 

And  this  is  in  effect  what  our  Saviour  declares, 
Matt.:xA\.  37.  "By  thy  words  thou  shalt  be  justified, 
and  by  thy  words  thou  shalt  be  condemned  :'*  by 
thy  words,  as  well,  that  is,  as  by  thy  actions ;  the 
one  shall  be  taken  into  the  account  as  well  as  the 
other,  for  they  both  possess  the  same  property  of  vol- 
untarily producing  good  or  evil. 

Slander  may  be  distinguished  into  two  kindsj 
malicious  slander,  and  inconnderate  slander. 

Malicious  slander,  is  the  relating  of  either  truth  or 
falsehood,  for  the  purpose  of  creating  misery. 

I  acknowledge  that  the  truth  or  falsehood  of  what 
is  related  varies  the  degree  of  guilt  considerably  j 
and  that  slander,  in  the  ordinary  acceptation  of  the 
term,  signifies  the  circulation  of  mischievous /^•/r^'- 
hoods  :  but  truth  may  be  made  instrumental  to  the 
success  of  malicious  designs  as  well  as  falsehood ;  and 
if  the  end  be  bad,  the  means  cannot  be  innocent. 

I  think  the  idea  of  slander  ought  to  be  confined 
to  the  production  of  gratuitous  mischief.  When  we 
have  an  end  or  interest  of  our  own  to  serve,  if  we 
attempt  to  compass  it  by  falsehood,  it  is  fraud ;  if  by 
a  publication  of  the  truth,  it  is  not  without  some  ad- 
ditional circumstance  of  breach  of  promise,  betraying 
of  confidence,  or  the  like,  to  be  deemed  criminal. 

Sometimes  the  pain  is  intended  for  the  person  to 
whom  we  are  speaking  ;  at  other  times  an  enmity  is 
to  be  gratified  by  the  prejudice  or  disquiet  of  a  third 

A    A 


392  Slander. 

person.  To  infuse  suspicions,  to  kindle  or  continue 
disputes,  to  avert  the  favour  and  esteem  of  benefac- 
tors from  their  dependants,  to  render  some  one 
whom  we  dislike  contemptible  or  obnoxious  in  the 
public  opinion,  are  all  offices  of  slander  ;  of  which 
the  guilt  must  be  measured  by  the  intensity  and  ex- 
tent of  the  misery  produced. 

The  disguises  under  which  slander  is  conveyed, 
v/hether  in  a  whisper,  with  injunctions  of  secrecy, 
by.  way  of  caution,  or  with  affected  reluctance,  are 
all  so  many  aggravations  of  the  offence,  as  they  indi- 
cate more  deliberation  and  design. 

Inconsiderate  slander  is  a  different  offence,  although 
the  same  mischief  actually  follow,  and  although  the 
mischief  might  have  been  foreseen.  The  not  being 
conscious  of  that  design,  which  we  have  hitherto  at- 
tributed to  the  slanderer,  makes  the  difference. 

The  guilt  here  consists  in  the  want  of  that  regard 
to  the  consequences  of  our  conduct,  which  a  just  af- 
fection for  human  happiness,  and  concern  for  our 
duty,  would  nor  have  failed  to  have  produced  in  us. 
And  it  is  no  answer  to  this  crimination  to  say,  that 
we  entertained  no  evil  design.  A  servant  may  be  a 
very  bad  servant,  and  yet  seldom  or  never  design  to 
act  in  opposition  to  his  master's  interest  or  will  j  and 
his  master  may  justly  punish  such  a  servant  for  a 
thoughtlessness  and  neglect  nearly  as  prejudicial  as  de- 
liberate disobedience.  I  accuse  you  not,  he  may  say, 
of  any  express  intention  to  hurt  me ;  but  had  not 
the  fear  of  my  displeasure,  the  care  of  my  interest, 
and  indeed  all  the  qualities  which  constitute  the  merit 
of  a  good  servant,  been  wanting  in  you,  they  would 
not  only  have  excluded  every  direct  purpose  of  giv- 
ing me  uneasiness,  but  have  been  so  far  present  to 
your  thoughts,  as  to  have  checked  that  unguarded 
licentiousness,  by  which  I  have*  suffered  so  much, 
and  inspired  you  in  its  place  with  an  habitual  solici- 
tude about  the  effects  and  tendency  of  what  you  did 
or  said.     This  very  much  resembles  the  case  of  all 


Slander,  193 

sins  of  inconslderation  ;  and,  amongst  the  foremost 
of  these,  that  of  inconsiderate  slander. 

Information  communicated  for  the  real  purpose  of 
warning,  or  cautioning,  is  not  slander. 

Indiscriminate  praise  is  the  opposite  of  slander, 
but  it  is  the  opposite  extreme  ;  and,  however  it 
may  affect  to  be  thought  excess  of  candour,  is  com- 
monly the  effusion  of  a  frivolous  understanding, 
or  proceeds  from  a  settled  contempt  of  all  moral 
distinctions. 


tmsss 


BOOK   III. 


Relative  Duties^ 


PART  III. 

OF   RELATIVE    DUTIES   WHICH    RESULT 

FROM  THE  CONSTITUTION  OF 

THE  SEXES. 


f  1 1 

1  HE  constitution  of  the  sexes  is  the  founda- 
tion of  marriage. 

Collateral  to  the  subject  of  marriage,  are  fornica- 
tion, seduction,  adultery,  incest,  polygamy,  divorce. 

Consequential  to  marriage,  is  the  relation  and  re- 
ciprocal duty  of  parent  and  child. 

We  will  treat  of  these  subjects  in  the  following 
order  :  first,  of  the  public  use  of  marriage  institu- 
tions ;  secondly,  of  the  subjects  collateral  to  mar- 
riage, in  the  order  in  which  we  have  here  proposed 
them  ;  thirdly,  of  marriage  itself  j  and  lastly,  of  the 
relation  and  reciprocal  duties  of  parents  and  children. 


CHAPTER    I. 

OF  THE  PUBLIC  USE  OF  MARRIAGE   IN- 
STITUTIONS. 

1  HE  public  use  of  marriage  institutions  con- 
sists in  their  promoting  the  following  beneficial 
effects  ;: 


Marriage.  195 

1.  The  private  comfort  of  individuals,  especially 
of  the  female  sex.  It  may  be  true,  that  all  are  not 
interested  in  this  reason  :  nevertheless,  it  is  a  reason 
to  all  for  abstaining  from  any  conduct  which  tends 
in  its  general  consequence  to  obstruct  marriage  ;  for 
whatever  promotes  the  happiness  of  the  majority  is 
binding  upon  the  whole. 

2  The  production  of  the  greatest  number  of 
healthy  children,  their  better  education,  and  the 
making  of  due  provision  for  their  settlement  in  life. 

3.  The  peace  of  human  society,  in  cutting  off  a 
principle  source  of  contention,  by  assigning  one  or 
more  women  to  one  man,  and  protecting  his  exclu- 
sive  right  by  sanctions  of  morality  and  law. 

4.  The  better  government  of  society,  by  distribut- 
ing the  community  into  separate  families,  and  ap- 
pointing over  each  the  authority  of  a  master  of  a 
family,  which  has  more  actual  influence  than  all  civil 
authority  put  together. 

5.  The  same  end,  in  the  additional  security  which 
the  state  receives  for  the  good  behaviour  of  its  citi- 
zens, from  the  solicitude  they  feel  for  the  welfare  of 
their  children,  and  from  their  being  confined  to  per- 
manent habitations. 

6.  The  encouragement  of  industry. 

Some  ancient  nations  appear  to  have  been  more 
sensible  of  the  importance  of  marriage  institutions 
than  we  are.  The  Spartans  obliged  their  citizens  to 
marry  by  penalties,  and  the  Romans  encouraged 
theirs  by  the  jus  irium  liheroriim.  A  man  who  had 
no  child  was  entitled  by  the  Roman  law  only  to  one 
half  of  any  legacy  that  should  be  left  him,  that  is, 
at  the  most,  could  only  receive  onq  half  of  the  testa- 
tor's fortune. 


196  Fornication. 

CHAPTER  II. 
FORNICATION. 

i  HE  first  and  great  mischief,  and  by  conse- 
quence the  guilt,  of  promiscuous  concubinage,  con- 
sists in  its  tendency  to  diminish  marriages,  and  there- 
by to  defeat  the  several  beneficial  purposes  enumerat- 
ed in  the  preceding  Chapter. 

Promiscuous  concubinage  discourages  marriage  by 
abating  the  chief  temptation  to  it.  The  male  part 
of  the  species  will  not  undertake  the  incumbrance, 
expense,  and  restraint  of  married  life,  if  they  can 
gratify  their  passions  at  a  cheaper  price  :  and  they 
•will  undertake  any  thing,  rather  than  not  gratify 
them. 

The  reader  will  learn  to  comprehend  the  magni- 
tude of  this  mischief,  by  attending  to  the  importance 
and  variety  of  the  uses  to  which  marriage  is  subser- 
vient ;  and  by  recollecting  withal,  that  the  malignity 
and  moral  quality  of  each  crime  is  not  to  be  estima- 
ted by  the  particular  effect  of  one  offence,  or  of  one 
person's  offending,  but  by  the  general  tendency  and 
consequence  of  crimes  of  the  same  nature.  The  lib- 
ertine may  not  be  conscious  that  these  irregularities 
hinder  his  own  marriage,  from  which  he  is  deterred, 
he  may  allege,  by  different  considerations ;  much 
less  does  he  perceive  how  his  indulgences  can  hinder 
other  men  from  marrying  :  but  what  will  he  say 
would  be  the  consequence,  if  the  same  licentious- 
ness were  universal  ?  or  what  should  hinder  its  be- 
coming universal,  if  it  be  innocent  or  allowable  in 
him  ? 

2.  Fornication  supposes  prostitution  ;  and  prosti- 
tution brings  and  leaves  the  victims  of  it  to  almost 
certain  misery.  It  is  no  small  quantity  of  misery  in 
the  aggregate,  which,  between  want,  disease,  and  in- 
sult, is  suffered  by   those  outcasts  of  human  societyj 


Fornication.  197 

who  infest  populous  cities  ;  the  whole  of  which  is  a 
general  consequence  of  fornication,  and  to  the  increase 
and  continuance  of  which,  every  act  and  instance  of 
fornication  contributes. 

3.  Fornication  produces  habits  of  ungovernable 
lewdness,  which  introduce  the  more  aggravated 
crimes  of  seduction,  adultery,  violation,  &c.*  Like- 
wise, however  it  be  accounted  for,  the  criminal  com- 
merce of  the  sexes  corrupts  and  depraves  the  mind 
and  moral  character  more  than  any  single  species  ot 
vice  whatsoever.  That  ready  perception  of  guilt, 
that  prompt  and  decisive  resolution  against  it,  which 
constitutes  a  virtuous  character,  is  seldom  found  in 
persons  addicted  to  these  indulgences.  They  prepare 
an  easy  admission  for  every  sin  that  seeks  it ;  are,  in 
low  life,  usually  the  first  stage  in  men's  progress  to 
the  most  desperate  villanies  ;  and,  in  high  life,  to  that 
lamented  dissoluteness  of  principle,  which  manifests 
itself  in  a  profligacy  of  public  conduct,  and  a  contempt 
of  the  obligations  of  religion  and  of  moral  probity. 
Add  to  this,  that  habits  of; libertinism  incapacitate  and 
indispose  the  mind  for  all  intellectual,  moral,  and 
religious  pleasures  ;  which  is  a  great  loss  to  any 
man's  happiness. 

4.  Fornication  perpetuates  a  disease,  which  may 
be  accounted  one  of  the  sorest  maladies  of  human  na- 
ture ;  and  the  effects  of  which  are  said  to  visit  the 
constitution  of  even  distant  generations. 

The  passion  being  natural,  proves  that  it  was  in- 
tended to  be  gratified;  but  under  what  restrictions, 
or  whether  without  any,  must  be  collected  from  dif- 
ferent considerations. 

The  Christian  scriptures  condemn  fornication 
absolutely  and  peremptorily.  "  Out  of  the  heiirt," 
says  our  Saviour,  "  proceed  evil  thoughts,  murders, 
adulteries,  fornication^   thefts,  false  witness,  blasphe- 

*  Of  this  passion  it  has  been  truly  said,"  that  irregularity  has  no  limits ; 
that  one  excess  draws  on  another;  tliat  the  most  easy,  therefore,  as  well  as 
the  most  excellent  way  of  being;  virtuous,  is  to  be  so  ■..ntirdy.''  Ogden, 
Sermon  xvi. 


198  Fornication. 

mies  ;  these  are  the  things  which  defile  a  man.*' 
These  are  Christ's  own  words  ;  and  one  word  from 
him  upon  the  subject  is  final.  It  may  be  observed 
with  what  society  fornication  is  classed  j  with  mur- 
ders, thefts,  false  witness,  blasphemies.  I  do  not 
mean  that  these  crimes  are  all  equal,  because  they 
are  all  mentioned  together ;  but  it  proves  that  they 
are  all  crimes.  The  apostles  are  more  full  upon 
this  topic.  One  well  known  passage  in  the  Epistle 
to  the  Hebrews  may  stand  in  the  place  of  all  others  ; 
because,  admitting  the  authority  by  which  the  Apos- 
tles of  Christ  spake  and  wrote,  it  is  decisive  :  "  Mar- 
riage and  the  bed  undefiled  is  honourable  amongst 
all  men  ;  but  whore-mongers  and  adulterers  God 
will  judge  ;'*  which  was  a  great  deal  to  say,  at  a 
time  when  it  was  not  agreed  even  amongst  philoso- 
phers themselves  that  fornication  was  a  crime. 

The  scriptures  give  no  sanction  to  those  austerities, 
which  have  been  since  imposed  upon  the  world  un- 
der the  name  of  Christ's  religion,  as  the  celibacy  of 
the  clergy,  the  praise  of  perpetual  virginity,  the 
■prohibitio  concubitih  cum  gravida  iixore  ;  but,  with  a 
just  knowledge  of,  and  regard  to  the  condition  and 
interest  of  the  human  species,  have  provided,  in  the 
marriage  of  one  man  with  one  woman,  an  adequate 
,y;ratification  for  the  propensities  of  their  nature,  and 
have  restricted  \.\ien\  to  that  gratification. 

I'he  avowed  toleration,  and  in  some  countries  the 
licensing,  taxing,  and  regulating  of  public  brothels, 
has  appeared  to  the  people  an  authorizing  of  fornica- 
tion ;  and  has  contributed,  with  other  causes,  so  far  to 
vitiate  the  public  opinion,  that  there  is  no  practice 
of  which  the  immorality  is  so  little  thought  of  or 
acknowledged,  although  there  are  few,  in  which  it  can 
more  plainly  be  made  out.  The  legislatures  who  have 
patronized  receptacles  of  prostitution  ought  to  have 
foreseen  this  effect,  as  well  as  considered,  that  what- 
ever facilitates  fornication  diminishes  marriages. 
And  as  to  the  usual  apology  for  this  relaxed  discipline. 


Fornication*  1 99 

the  danger  of  greater  enormities  if  access  to  prosti- 
tutes were  too  strictly  watched  and  prohibited,  it 
will  be  time  enough  to  look  to  that,  when  the  laws 
and  the  magistrates  have  done  their  utmost.  The 
greatest  vigilence  of  both  will  do  no  more,  than  op- 
pose some  bounds  and  some  difficulties  to  this  inter- 
course. And,  after  all,  these  pretended  fears  are 
without  foundation  in  experience.  The  men  are  in 
all  respects  the  most  virtuous,  in  countries  where  the 
women  are  most  chaste. 

There  is  a  species  of  cohabitation,  distinguishable, 
no  doubt,  from  vagrant  concubinage,  and  which,  by 
reason  of  its  resemblance  to  marriage,  may  be  thought 
to  participate  of  the  sanctity  and  innocence  of  that 
estate  ;  I  mean  the  case  of  kept  ?nistresses,  under  the 
favourable  circumstance  of  mutual  fidelity.  This  case 
I  have  heard  defended  by  some  such  apology  as  the 
following  : 

"  That  the  marriage  rite  being  different  in  differ- 
ent countries,  and  m  the  same  country  amongst  dlf= 
ferent  sects,  and  with  some  scarce  any  thing  ;  and, 
moreover,  not  being  prescribed  or  even  mentioned 
in  scripture,  can  be  accounted  of  only  as  of  a  form 
and  ceremony  of  human  invention  :  that,  consequent- 
ly, if  a  man  and  woman  betroth  and  confine  them- 
selves to  each  other,  their  intercourse  must  be  the 
same,  as  to  all  moral  purposes,  as  if  they  were  legally 
married  :  for  the  addition  or  omission  of  that  which 
is  a  mere  form  and  ceremony,  can  make  no  differ- 
ence in  the  sight  of  God,  or  in  the  actual  nature  of 
right  and  wrong.** 

To  all  which  it  may  be  replied, 

1.  If  the  situation  of  the  parties  be  the  same  thing 
as  marriage,  v^hy  do  they  not  marry  ? 

2.  If  the  man  choose  to  have  it  in  his  power  to 
dismiss  the  woman  at  his  pleasure,  or  to  retain  her  in. 
a  state  of  humiliation  and  dependence  inconsistent  with 
the  rights  which  marriage  would  confer  upon  her,  it 
is  not  the  same  thing. 

B    B 


200  Fornication, 

It  is  not  at  any  rate  the  same  thing  to  the  children; 

Again,  as  the  marriage  rite  being  a  mere  form, 
and  that  also  variable,  the  same  may  be  said  ot 
signing  and  sealing  of  bonds,  wills,  deeds  of  convey- 
ance, and  the  like,  which  yet  make  a  great  difference 
in  the  rights  and  obligations  of  the  parties  concerned 
in  them. 

And  with  respect  to  the  rite  not  being  appointed 
in  scripture — the  scriptures  forbid  fornication,  that 
is,  cohabitation  without  marriage,  leaving  it  to  the 
law  of  each  country  to  pronounce  what  is,  or  what 
makes  a  marriage  ;  in  like  manner  as  they  forbid 
thefts,  that  is,  the  taking  away  of  another's  property, 
leaving  it  to  the  municipal  law  to  fix  what  make& 
the  thing  property,  or  whose  it  is,  which  also,  as 
well  as  marriage,  depends  upon  arbitrary  and  muta- 
ble forms. 

Laying  aside  the  injunctions  of  scripture,  the 
plain  account  of  the  question  seems  to  be  this  :  It  is 
immoial,  because  it  is  pernicious,  that  men  and  wo- 
men should  cohabit,  without  undertaking  certain  ir- 
revocable obligations,  and  mutually  conferring  cer- 
tain civil  rights  ^  if,  therefore,  the  law  has  annexed 
these  rights  and  obligations  to  certain  forms,  so  that 
they  cannot  be  secured  or  undertaken  by  any  other 
means,  which  is  the  case  here  ffor  whatever  the 
parties  may  promise  to  each  other,  nothing  but  the 
marriage  ceremony  can  make  their  promise  irrevo- 
cable) it  becomes  in  the  same  degree  immoral,  that 
men  and  women  should  cohabit  without  the  interpo- 
sition of  these  forms. 

If  fornication  be  criminal,  all  those  incentives 
which  lead  to  it  are  accessaries  to  the  crime,  as  las- 
civious conversation,  whether  expressed  in  obscene 
or  disguised  under  modest  phrases  ;  also  wanton 
songs,  pictures,  books  ;  the  writing,  publishing,  and 
circulating  of  which,  whether  out  of  frolic,  or  for 
some  pitiful  profit,  is  productive  of  so   extensive  a 


Seduction.  201 

mischief  from  so  mean  a  temptation,  that  few  crimes, 
within  the  reach  of  private  wickedness,  have  more 
to  answer  for,  or  less  to  plead  in  their  excuse. 

Indecent  conversation,  and  by  parity  of  reason  all 
the  rest,  are  forbidden  by  St.  Paul,  Eph.  iv.  29. 
*'  Let  no  corrupt  communication  proceed  out  of 
your  mouth  :'*  And  again,  Col.  iii.  8.  "  Put  off — 
filthy  communication  out  of  your  mouth." 

The  invitation,  or  voluntary  admission,  of  impure 
thoughts,  or  the  suffering  them  to  get  possession  of 
the  imagination,  fails  within  the  same  description, 
and  is  condemned  by  Christ,  Matt.  v.  28.  "Whoso- 
ever lookeih  on  a  woman  to  lust  after  her,  hath  com- 
mitted adultry  with  her  already  in  his  heart."  Christy 
by  thus  enjoining  a  regulation  of  the  thoughts,  strikes 
at  the  root  of  the  evil. 


CHAPTER  IIL 
SEDUCTIONo 

1  HE  reducer  practices  the  same  stratagems  to 
draw  a  woman's  person  into  his  power,  that  a  swin- 
dler does,  to  get  possession  of  your  goods,  or  money ; 
yet  the  law  of  honour,  which  abhors  deceit,  applauds 
the  address  of  a  successful  intrigue  :  so  much  is  this 
capricious  rule  guided  by  names,  and  with  such  fa- 
cility does  it  accommodate  itself  to  the  pleasures  and 
conveniency  in  higher  life  ! 

Seduction  is  seldom  accomplished  without  fraud  ; 
and  the  fraud  is  by  so  much  more  criminal  than 
other  frauds,  as  the  injury  effected  by  it  is  greater, 
continues  longer,  and  less  admits  of  reparation. 

This  injury  is  threefold  ;  to  the  woman,  to  her 
family,  and  to  the  public. 

1.  The  injury  to  the  woman  is  made  up,  of  the 
fain  she  suffers  from  shame,  of  the  loss  she  sustains  in. 


202  Seduction, 

her  reputation  and  prospects  of  marriage,  and  of  the 
depravation  of  her  moral  prjciple. 

This  pain  must  be  extreme,  if  we  may  judge  of  it 
from  those  barbarous  endeavours  to  conceal  their 
disgrace,  to  which  women,  under  such  circumstances^ 
sometimes  have  recourse  j  comparing  also  this  bar- 
barity with  their  passionate  fondness  for  their  oiF- 
spring  in  other  cases.  Nothing  but  an  agony  of 
mind  the  most  insupportable  can  induce  a  woman 
to  forget  her  nature,  and  the  pity  which  even  a 
stranger  would  shew  to  a  helpless  and  imploring  in- 
fant. It  is  true,  that  all  are  not  urged  to  this  ex- 
tremity ;  but  if  ?ny  are,  it  affords  an  indication  of 
how  much  all  suffer  from  the  same  cause.  What 
shall  we  say  to  the  authors  of  such  niischief  ? 

The  loss  which  a  woman    sustains  by  the  ruin  of 
her  reputation   almost  exceeds  computation.     Every 
person's  happiness  depends  in  part  upon  the  respect 
and  reception  which  they  meet   with  in  the  world  ; 
and   it  is  no  inconsiderable  mortification  even  to  the 
firmest   tempers,   to  be  rejected  from  the  society  of 
their  equals,  or  received  there  with  neglect  and  dis- 
dain.    But  this  is  not  all,  nor  the  worst.     By  a  rule 
of  life,  which   is  not  easy   to  blame,  and  which   it 
is  impossible  to  alter,  a  woman  loses  with  her  chasti- 
ty the  chance  of  marrying  at  all,  or  in  any  manner 
equal  to  the  hopes  she  had  been  accustomed  to  en- 
tertain.    Now  marriage,  whatever  it  be  to  a  man,  is 
that,  from  which  every  woman   expects    her   chief 
happiness.     And  this   is  still  more  true  in  low  life, 
of  which   condition   the  women  are,  who  are  most 
exposed  to  solicitations  of  this  sort.     Add  to  this, 
that  where  a  woman's  maintenance  depends  upon  her 
character,  (as  it  does,  in  a  great  measure,  with  those 
who  are  to  support  themselves  by  service)  little  some- 
times is   left  to  the  forsaken  sufferer,  but  to  starve 
for  want  of  employment,  or  to  have  recourse  to  pros- 
titution for  food  and  raiment. 


Seduction.  203 

As  a  woman  collects  her  virtue  into  this  point, 
the  loss  of  her  chastity  is  generally  the  destruction  of 
her  moral  principle ',  and  this  consequence  is  to  be 
apprehended,  whether  the  criminal  intercourse  be 
discovered  or  not. 

2.  The  injury  to  the  family  may  be  understood 
by  the  application  of  that  infallible  rule,  "  of  doing 
to  others  what  we  would  that  others  should  do  unto 
us."  Let  a  father  or  a  brother  say,  for  what  con- 
sideration they  would  suffer  this  injury  in  a  daughter 
or  a  sister  ;  and  whether  any,  or  even  a  total  loss  of 
fortune  could  create  equal  affliction  and  distress. 
And  when  they  reflect  upon  this,  let  them  distinguish, 
if  they  can,  between  a  robbery  committed  upon 
their  property  by  fraud  or  forgery,  and  the  ruin  of 
their  happiness  by  the  treachery  of  a  seducer. 

3.  The  public  at  large  lose  the  benefit  of  the  wo- 
man's service  in  her  proper  place  and  destination,  as 
a  wife  and  parent.  This  to  the  whole  community 
may  be  little  ;  but  it  is  often  more  than  all  the  good, 
which  the  seducer  does  to  the  community,  can  rec- 
ompense. Moreover,  prostitution  is  supplied  by  se- 
duction ;  and  in  proportion  to  the  danger  there  is 
of  the  woman's  betaking  herself,  after  her  first  sacri- 
fice, to  a  life  of  public  lewdness,  the  seducer  is  an- 
swerable for  the  multiplied  evils  to  which  his  crime 
gives  birth. 

Upon  the  v^hole,  if  we  pursue  the  effects  of  seduc- 
tion through  the  complicated  misery  whic  h  it  occa- 
sions ;  and  if  it  be  right  to  estimate  crimes  by  the 
mischief  they  knowingly  produce,  it  will  appear 
something  more  than  mere  invective  to  assert,  that 
not  one  half  of  the  crimes,  for  which  men  suffer 
death  by  the  laws  of  England,  are  so  flagitious  as 
this.* 

•  Yet  the  law  has  provided  no  punishment  for  this  offence  beyond  e. 
pecuniarny  satisfaction  to  the  injured  family;  and  this  can  only  be  come  at, 
by  one  of  the  quaintest  fictions  in  the  world,  by  the  father's  bringing  his 
action  against  the  seducer,  for  the  loss  of  his  daughter's  service,  during  her 
pregnancy  and  nurturing. 


204f  Adultery. 

CHAPTER  IV. 
ADULTERY. 

A  NEW  sufferer  is  introduced,  the  injured 
husband,  who  receives  a  wound  in  his  sensibility  and 
affections,  the  most  painful  and  incurable  that  human 
nature  knows.  In  ail  other  respects,  adultery  on 
the  part  of  the  man  who  solicits  the  chastity  of  a 
married  woman,  includes  the  crime  of  seduction,  and 
is  attended  with  the  same  mischief. 

ITie  infidelity  of  the  woman,  is  aggravated  by  cru- 
elty to  her  children,  who  are  generally  involved  in 
their  parents'  shame,  and  always  made  unhappy  by 
their  quarrel. 

If  it  be  said  that  these  consequences  are  chargeable 
not  so  much  upon  the  crime,  as  the  discovery,  we 
answer,  first,  that  the  crime  could  not  be  discov- 
ered unless  it  were  committed,  and  that  the  commis- 
sion is  never  secure  from  discovery  ;  and  secondly, 
that  if  we  excuse  adulterous  connexions,  whenever 
they  can  hope  to  escape  detection,  which  is  the  con- 
clusion io  which  this  argument  conducts  us,  we  leave 
the  husband  no  other  security  for  his  wife's  chastity, 
than  in  her  want  of  opportunity  or  temptation  ; 
which  would  probably  either  deter  men  from  mar- 
rying, or  render  marriage  a  state  of  such  jealousy 
and  alarm  to  the  husband,  as  must  end  in  the  slavery 
and  confinement  of  the  wife. 

The  vow  by  which  married  persons  mutually  en- 
gage their  fidelity,  is  "  witnessed  before  God,"  and 
accompained  with  circumstances  of  solemnity  and 
rdigion,  which  approach  to  the  nature  of  an  oath. 
The  married  offender  therefore  incurs  a  crime  little 
short  of  perjury,  and  the  seduction  of  a  married  wo- 
man is  little  less  than  subornation  of  perjury  ; — and 
f;his  guilt  is  independent  of  the  discovery. 


AdulUrJ>  205 

AH  behaviour,  which  is  designed,  or  which  know- 
ingly tends  to  captivate  the  affection  of  a  married 
woman,  is  a  barbarous  intrusion  upon  the  peace  and 
virtue  of  a  family^  though  it  fall  short  of  adultery. 

The  usual  and  only  apology  for  adultery  is  the 
prior  transgression  of  the  other  party.  There  are 
degrees  no  doubt  in  this,  as  in  other  crimes  ;  and  so 
far  as  the  bad  effects  of  adultery  are  anticipated  by 
conduct  of  the  husband  or  wife  who  offends  first,, 
the  guilt  of  the  second  offender  is  less.  But  this 
falls  very  far  short  of  a  justification  ;  unless  it  could 
be  shewn  that  the  obligation  of  the  marriage  vow 
depends  upon  the  condition  of  reciprocal  fidelity  ; 
for  which  construction,  there  appears  no  foundation^ 
either  in  expediency,  or  in  the  terms  of  the  promise^ 
or  in  the  design  of  the  legislature  which  prescribed 
the  marriage  rite.  Moreover,  the  rule  contended  for 
by  this  plea  has  a  manifest  tendency  to  multiply  the 
offence,  but  none  to  reclaim  the  offender. 

The  way  of  considering  the  offence  of  one  party 
as  a  provocation  to  the  other,  and  the  other  as  only 
retaliaiing  the  injury  by  repeating  the  crime,  is  a  child' 
ish  trifling  with  words. 

"  Thou  shalt  not  commit  adultery,"  was  an  inter- 
dict delivered  by  God  himself.  By  the  Jewish  law 
adultery  was  capital  to  both  parties  in  the  crime  : 
^'  Even  he  that  committeth  adultery  with  his  neigh- 
bour's wife,  the  adulterer  and  adulteress  shall  surely 
be  put  to  death."  Lev.  xx.  ]{>:  Which  passages 
prove,  that  the  divine  Legislator,  placed  a  great  dif- 
ference between  adultery  and  fornication.  And 
with  this  agree  the  Christian  scriptures  ;  for  in  al- 
most all  the  catalogues  ihey  have  left  us  of  crimes 
and  criminals,  they  enumerate  "  fornication,  adulte- 
ry," "  whoremongers,  adulterers,"  (Matthew  XV.  19. 
1  Cor.  vi.  9.  Gal.  v.  9.  Ileb.  xiii.  4.)  by  which  men- 
tion of  both,  they  shew  that  they  did  not  consider 
them  as  the  same  ;  but  that  the  crime  of  adultery 
was,  in  their  apprehension,  distinct  from,  and  acciu 
mulated  upon,  that  of  fornication. 


206  Adultery, 

The  history  of  the  woman  taken  in  adultery,  re- 
corded in  the  eighth  chapter  of  St.  JohrHs  Gospel^  has 
been  thought  by  some  to  give  countenance  to  that 
crime.  As  Christ  told  the  woman,  "  Neither  do  I 
condemn  thee,'*  we  must  beheve,  it  is  said,  that  he 
deemed  her  conduct  either  not  criminal,  or  not  a 
crime  however  of  the  heinous  nature  which  we  rep- 
resent it  to  be.  A  more  attentive  examination  of 
the  case  will,  I  think,  convince  us,  that  from  //  noth- 
ing can  be  concluded  as  to  Christ's  opinion  concern- 
ing adultery,  either  one  way  or  the  other.  The 
transaction  is  thus  related  :  "  Early  in  the  morning 
Jesus  came  again  into  the  temple,  and  all  the  people 
came  unto  him  ;  and  he  sat  down  and  taught  them  ; 
and  the  Scribes  and  Pharisees  brought  unto  him  a 
woman  taken  in  adultery  ;  and  when  they  had  set 
her  in  the  midst,  they  say  unto  him,  Master,  this  wo- 
man was  taken  in  adultery,  in  the  very  act  :  now 
Moses  in  the  law  commanded  that  such  should  be 
stoned  ;  but  what  sayest  thou  ?  This  they  said  tempt- 
ing him,  that  they  might  have  to  accuse  him. 
But  Jesus  stooDed  down,  and  with  his  finger  wrote 
on  the  ground,  as  though  he  heard  them  not.  So 
when  they  continued  asking  him,  he  lift  up  himself, 
and  said  unto  them,  He  that  is  without  sin  amongst 
you,  let  him  first  cast  a  stone  at  her  ;  and  again 
he  stooped  down  and  wrote  on  the  ground  :  and  they 
which  heard  it,  being  convicted  by  their  own  con- 
science, went  out  one  by  one,  beginning  at  the  eldest, 
even  unto  the  last ;  and  Jesus  was  leh  alone,  and  the 
woman  standing  in  the  midst.  When  Jesus  had  lift 
up  himself  and  saw  none  but  the  woman,  he  said  un- 
to her.  Woman,  where  are  those  ihine  accusers  ? 
hath  no  man  condemned  thee  ?  She  said  unto  him, 
No  man.  Lord.  And  he  said  unto  her,  Neither  do  I 
condemn  thee  ;  go  and  sin  no  more," 

"  This  they  said,  tempting  him,  that  they  might 
have  to  accuse  him,"  to  draw  him,  that  is,  into  an 
exercise  of  judicial  authority,  that  they  might  have 


Adultery.  207 

to  accuse  him  before  the  Roman  governor  of  usurp- 
ing   or    intermeddling  with    the    civil  governmento 
This    was    their    design  ;    and    Christ's    behaviour 
throughout  the  whole  affair  proceeded  from  a  knowl- 
edge of  this  design  ;  and  a  determination  to  defeat  it. 
He  gives  them  at  first  a  cold  and  sullen  reception, 
well  suited  to  the  insidious  intention  with  which  they 
came :    "  He    stooped   down,   and    with    his   finger 
wrote  on    the   ground,  as   though    he   heard    them 
not."     '•  When   they  continned  asking  him,'*  when 
they  teased  him  to  speak,  he  dismissed  them   with  a 
rebuke,  which   the   impertinent    malice  of  their  er- 
rand, as  well  as  the  secret  character  of  many  of  them 
deserved :  "  He  that  is  without  sin  (that  is,  this  sin) 
among  you,  let  him  first  cast  a  stone  at  her."     This 
had  its  effect.     Stung  with  the    reproof,  and  disap- 
pointed of  their  aim,   they   stole  away   one   by  one, 
and  left  Jesus  and  the  woman  alone.     And  then  fol- 
lows the  conversation,  which  is  the  part  of  the  nar» 
rative  most  material  to  our  present  subject.     "  Jesus 
saith  unto  her.  Woman,  where  are  those  thine    ac- 
cusers ?    hath  no   man   condemned  thee  ?  She   said,- 
No  man.  Lord.     And  Jesus  said  unto  her.  Neither 
do  I  condemn  thee  ;  go  and  sin  no  more."     Now,- 
when  Christ  asked  the  woman,  "  hath  no  man  cori' 
demned  thee,"  he  certainly  spoke,   and    was   under- 
stood by  the  woman  to  speak,  of  a  legal  and  judicial 
condemnation ;  otherwise,    her  answer,    "  no  man. 
Lord,"  was  not  true.     In  every  other  sense  of  con- 
demnation, as  blame,  censure,  reproof,  private  judg- 
ment, and  the  like,  many  had  condemned  her  ;  all  those 
indeed  who  brought   her  to   Jesus.     If  then    a  judi- 
cial sentence  was   what  Christ  meant  by    condemning 
in  the  question,  the  common  use  of  language  requires 
us  to  suppose  that  he  meant  the  same  in    his  reply, 
"  neither  do  I  condemn  thee,"  /.  e,  I  pretend  to  no 
judicial   character  or    authority  over  thee ;     it    is  no 
office  or  business  of  mine   to  pronounce  or  execute 
the  sentence  of  the  law. 
c  c 


208  Jncesi. 

When  Christ  adds,  "  go  and  sin  no  more,'^  he  in 
effect  tells  her,  that  she  had  sinned  already  ;  but  as 
to  the  degree  or  quality  of  the  sin,  or  Chri>t*s  opin- 
ion concerning  it,  nothing  is  declared,  or  can  be  infer- 
red, either  way. 

Adultery,  which  was  punished  with  death  during 
the  Usurpation,  is  now  regarded  by  the  law  of  Eng- 
land only  as  A  civil  injury  ;  for  which  the  imperfect 
satisfaction  that  money  can  afford,  may  be  recovered 
by  the  husband. 


CHAPTER     V. 
INCEST. 

IN  order  to  preserve  chastity  in  families,  and 
between  persons  of  different  sexes  brought  up  and 
living  together  in  a  state  of  unreserved  intimacy,  it 
is  necessary  by  every  method  possible  to  inculcate  an 
abhorrence  of  incestuous  conjunctions ;  which  abhor- 
rence can  only  be  upheld  by  the  absolute  reprobation 
of  all  commerce  of  the  sexes  between  near  relations. 
Upon  this  principle,  the  marriage  as  well  as  other  co- 
habitation of  brothers  and  sisters,  of  lineal  kindred, 
and  of  all  v/ho  usually  live  in  the  same  family,  may 
be  said  to  be  forbidden  by  the  law  of  nature. 

Restrictions  which  extend  to  remoter  degrees  of 
kindred  than  what  this  reason  makes  it  necessary 
to  prohibit  from  intermarriage,  are  founded  in  the 
authority  of  the  positive  law  which  ordains  them, 
and  can  only  be  justified  by  their  tendency  to  diffuse 
wealth,  to  connect  families,  or  to  promote  some 
political  advantage. 

The  Levitical  law,  which  is  received  in  this  coun- 
try, and  from  which  the  rule  of  the  Roman  law  dif- 
fers very  little,  prohibits*  marriage  between  relations 

*  Thci?cOTi/7jlavv  continued  the  prohibition  to  the  descendants  of  broth- 
ers and  sisters  without  limits.  In  the  Lc-vitical  and  English  law,  there  i.* 
nothing  to  hinder  a  man  from  mairylng  his^ri-j/  niece. 


Polygamy,  209 

within  three  degrees  of  kindred  ;  computing  the  gen- 
erations not  from  but  through  the  common  ancestor, 
and  accounting  affinity  the  same  as  consanguinity. 
The  issue,  however,  of  such  marriages  are  not  bas- 
tardized, unless  the  parents  be  divorced  during  their 
lifetime. 

The  Egyptians  are  said  to  have  allowed  of  the  mar- 
riage of  brothers  and  sisters.  Amongst  tho  Athenians 
a  very  singular  regulation  prevailed  ;  brothers  and 
sisters  of  the  half  blood,  if  related  by  the  father*s 
side,  might  marry  ;  if  by  the  mother's  side,  they 
were  prohibited  from  marrying.  The  same  custom 
also  probably  obtained  in  Chaldea  so  early  as  the  age 
in  which  Abraham  left  it  ;  for  he  and  Sarah  his  wife 
stood  in  this  relation  to  each  other.  "  And  yet, 
indeed,  she  is  my  sister,  she  is  the  daughter  of  my 
father,  but  not  of  my  mother,  and  she  became  my 
wife."     Gen.  xx.  12. 


CHAPTER    VI. 

POLYGAMY. 

1  HE  equality*  in  the  number  of  males  and  fe- 
males born  into  the  world  intimates  the  intention, 
of  God,  that  one  woman  should  be  assigned  to  one 
man  ;  for,  if  to  one  man  be  allowed  an  exclusive 
right  to  five  or  more  women,  four  or  more  men 
must  be  deprived  of  the  exclusive  possession  of  any  : 
which  could  never  be  the  order  intended. 

It  seems  also  a  significant  indication  of  the  divine 
will,  that  he  at  first  created  only  one  woman  to  one 
man.  Had  God  intended  polygamy  for  the  species, 
it  is  probable  he  would  have  begun  with  it  ;  espec- 

*  This  equality  is  not  exact.  The  number  of  male  infants  exceeds  that 
of  females  in  tlie  proportion  of  nineteen  to  eighteen,  or  thereabouts;  which 
excess  provides  for  the  greater  consumption  of  males  by  war,  seafaring; 
■\x!(\  other  d3n<^erons  or  uniiealthv  occupation?. 


210  Polygamy. 

ially  as,  by  giving  to  Adam  more  wives  than  onc.^ 
the  multipUcation  of  the  human  race  would  have  pro- 
ceeded with  a  quicker  progress. 

Polygamy  not  only  violates  the  constitution  of  na- 
ture, and  the  apparent  design  of  the  Deity,  but  pro- 
duces to  the  parties  themselves,  and  to  the  public, 
the  following  bad  effects  :  contests  and  jealousies 
amongst  the  wives  of  the  same  husband  ;  distracted 
affections,  or  the  loss  of  all  affection  in  the  husband 
himself  5  a  voluptuousness  in  the  rich  which  dissolves 
the  vigour  of  their  intellectual  as  well  as  active  facul- 
ties, producing  that  indolence  and  imbecility  botli 
of  mind  and  body,  which  have  long  characterized 
the  nations  of  the  East  ;  the  abasement  of  one  half 
pf  the  human  species,  who,  in  countries  where  polyg- 
amy obtains,  are  degraded  into  mere  instruments 
of  phiysical  pleasure  to  the  other  half ;  neglect  of 
children  ;  and  the  manifold,  and  sometimes  unnat- 
ural mischiefs,  which  arise  from  a  scarcity  of  women. 
To  compensate  for  these  evils,  polygamy  does  not 
offer  a  single  advantage.  In  the  article  of  population, 
which  it  has  been  thought  to  promote,  the  commu- 
nity gain  nothing  :*  for  the  question  is  not,  whether 
one  man  will  have  more  children  by  live  or  mo're 
wives  than  by  one  ;  but  whether  these  five  wives 
yi'ould  not  bear  the  same,  or  a  greater  number  of 
children,  to  five  separate  husbands.  And  as  to  the 
care  of  the  children  when  produced,  and  the  send- 
in  s^  of  them   into  the   world    in   situations   in   which 

o 

*  Notliing-,  1  mean,  compared  witli  a  state  in  which  niaiT'age  is  nearly 
universal.  Where  innriia.£:es  are  less  general,  and  many  women  unfruitful 
from  the  want  of  hiisbaii.  s,  polygamy  might  at  first  ad-l  a  little  to  popula- 
tion ;  and  but  a  little  :  for,  as  a  variety  of  wives  would  be  sought  chiefly 
from  temptations  of  voluptuousness,  it  would  rather  increase  tlie  deniand 
for  female  beauty  than  ff.r  the  sex  at  larj^e.  And  this  litt/e  would  soon  be 
made  less  by  many  deductions  For.  first,  ?.s  npre  but  the  opulent  can 
maintain  a  plurality  of  wives,  where  polygamy  obtair.s,  the  rich  indulge 
in  it,  while  the  rest  take  up  with  a  vague  and  barren  incontinency.  And, 
secondly, women  would  grow  'e>s  jealous  of  tl\eir  virtu  ,  when  they  had 
nothing  for  which  to  reserve  it.  but  a  chamber  in  the  haram  ;  when  their 
chastity  was  no  longer  to  be  rewarded  with  the  rights  and  happiness  of  a 
wife,  as  enjoyed  under  the  marriage  of  one  wom?n  to  one  man.  These 
(Tonsiderations  may  be  added  to  what  is  mentioned  in  tlie  text,  concerning 
^|ie  easy  and  early  settlement  of  children  in  the  world. 


Polygamy,  211 

they  may  be  likely  to  form  and  bring  up  families  of 
their  own,  upon  which  the  increase  and  succession  of 
the  human  species  in  a  great  degree  depend;  this  is 
less  provided  for,  and  le>s  practicable,  where  twenty 
or  thirty  children  are  to  be  supported  by  the  atten- 
tion and  fortunes  of  one  father,  than  if  they  were 
divided  into  five  or  six  families,  to  each  of  which 
were  assigned  the  industry  and  inheritance  of  two 
parents. 

Whether  simultaneous  polygamy  was  permitted 
by  the  law  of  Moscs^  seems  doubflul  :*  but  v.  hether 
permitted  or  not,  it  was  certainly  practised  by  the 
Jewish  patriarchs,  both  before  that  law.  and  under 
it.  The  permission,  if  there  was  any,  might  be  like 
that  of  divorce,  "  for  the  hardness  of  their  heart," 
in  condescension  to  their  established  indulgences, 
rather  than  from  the  general  rectitude  or  propriety 
of  the  thinr-  itself.     The  state   of  manners  in  Judca 

O 

had  probably  undergone  a  reformation  in  this  re- 
spect before  the  time  of  Cbrht^  for  in  the  New  Tes- 
tament v/e  meet  with  no  trace  or  mention  of  any  such 
practice  being  tolerated. 

For  which  reason,  and  because  it  was  likewise  for- 
bidden amongst  the  Greeks  and  Romans,  we  can- 
not expect  to  find  any  evpress  law  upon  the  subject 
in  the  Christian  code.  The  words  of  Christ,!  Matt, 
xix.  9.  may  be  construed  by  an  easy  implication  to 
prohibit  polygamy  ;  for,  if  *'  whoever  jmtteth  away 
his  wife,  and  marrieih  another,  commiteth  adultery," 
he  who  marrieth  another  without  putting  away  the 
first  is  no  less  guilty  of  adultery  ;  because  the  adulte- 
ry does  not  consist  in  the  repudiation  of  the  first 
wife  (for,  however  unjust  or  cruel  that  may  be,  it  is 
not  adultery)  but  in  entering  into  a  second  mar- 
riage during  the  legal  existence  and  obligation  of  the 
first.  The  several  passages  in  St.  Paul's  writings, 
which  speak  of  marriage,  always  suppose  it  to  signify 

*  See  Deut.  xvii.  17.  xxi.  15. 

f  "  I  say  unto  you,  Whosoever  shall  put  away  his  wife,  except  it  be  for 
'brnication,  and  shall  marry  another,  committeth  adultery  " 


212  Polygamy. 

the  union  of  one  man  with  one  woman.  Upon  tliis 
supposition  he  argues,  Rom.  vii.  2.  3.  "  Know  ye 
not,  brethren,  for  I  speak  to  them  that  know  the  law, 
how  that  the  law  hath  dominion  over  a  man,  as  long 
as  he  liveth  ?  For  the  woman  which  hath  an  hus- 
band, is  bound  by  the  law  to  her  husband  so  long 
as  he  liveth  ;  but  if  the  husband  be  dead,  she  is 
loosed  from  the  law  of  her  husband  :  so  then,  if 
while  her  husband  liveth  she  be  married  to  another 
man,  she  shall  be  called  an  adulteress."  When  the 
same  Apostle  permits  marriage  to  his  Corinthian 
converts  (which  "  for  the  present  distress,"  he  judges 
to  be  inconvenient)  he  restrains  the  permission  to  the 
marriage  of  one  husband  with  one  wife  :  *■'  It  is 
good  for  a  man  not  to  touch  a  woman  ;  neverthe- 
less, to  avoid  fornication,  let  every  man  have  his 
own  wife,  and  let  every  woman  have  her  own  hus- 
band." 

The  manners  of  different  countries  have  varied 
in  nothing  more  than  in  their  domestic  constitutions. 
Less  polished  and  more  luxurious  nations  have  either 
not  perceived  the  bad  effects  of  polygamy,  or,  if  they 
did  perceive  them,  they  who  in  such  countries  pos- 
sessed the  power  of  reforming  the  laws  have  been 
unwilling  to  resign  their  own  gratifications.  Polyg- 
amy is  retained  at  this  day  among  the  Twks,  and 
throughout  every  part  of  ^sia  in  which  Christianity 
is  not  professed.  In  Christian  countries  it  is  univer- 
sally prohibited.  In  Sivceden  it  is  punished  with  death. 
In  England,  beside  the  nullity  of  the  second  marriage, 
it  subjects  the  offender  to  transportation  or  imprison- 
ment and  branding  for  the  first  offence,  and  to  capi- 
tal punishment  for  the  second.  And  whatever  may 
be  said  in  behalf  of  polygamy,  when  it  is  authorized 
by  the  law  of  the  land,  the  marriage  of  a  second  wife, 
during  the  lifetime  of  the  first,  in  countries  where 
sush  a  second  marriage  is  void,  must  be  ranked  with 
the  most  dangerous  and  cruel  of  those  frauds,  by 
which  a  woman  is  cheated  out  of  her  fortune,  \x^x 
person,  and  her  happiness. 


Of  Divorce.  213 

The  ancient  Medes  compelled  their  citizens,  in 
one  canton,  to  take  seven  wives  ;  in  another,  each 
woman  to  receive  five  husbands  :  according  as  war 
had  made,  in  one  quarter  of  their  country,  an  ex- 
traordinary havock  among  the  men,  or  the  women 
had  been  carried  away  by  an  enemy  from  another. 
This  regulation,  so  far  as  it  was  adapted  to  the  pro- 
portion which  subsisted  between  the  numbers  of 
males  and  females,  was  founded  in  the  reason  upon 
which  the  most  improved  nations  of  Europe  proceed 
at  present. 

Casar  found  amongst  the  inhabitants  of  this  island 
a  species  of  polygamy,  if  it  may  be  so  called,  which 
was  perfectly  singular.  Uxores,  says  he,  habent  dent 
duodenique  inter  se  co?ii?nunes^  et  maxime fratres  cumfra- 
tribus,  parentesque  cum  liberis  :  sed  si  qid  sunt  ex  his 
flati,  eoru7?i  habeniur  liberie  quo  primum  virgo  quaquc 
deducta  est. 


CHAPTER  VII. 
OF  DIVORCE. 

ijY  Divorce,  I  mean,  the  dissolution  of  the 
marriage  contract,  by  the  act,  and  at  the  will,  of  the 
husband. 

This  power  was  allowed  to  the  husband,  among 
the  Jews,  the  Greeks,  and  latter  Ro?nans  ;  and  is  at 
this  day  exercised  by  the  Turks  and  Persians. 

The  congruity  of  such  a  right  with  the  law  of  na- 
ture, is  the  question  before  us. 

And  in  the  first  place,  it  is  manifestly  inconsistent 
with  the  duty,  which  the  parents  owe  to  their  chil- 
dren ;  which  duty  can  never  be  so  well  fulfilled  as 
by  their  cohabitation  and  united  care.  It  is  also 
incompatible  with  the  right  which  the  mother  pos- 
sesses, as  well  as  the  father,  to  the  gratitude  of  her 
children,  and  the  comfort  of  their  society  j  of  b©th 


fj  1  4  Of  Divorce, 

which  she  Is  ahnost  necessarily  deprived,  by  her  dis- 
mission from  her  husband's  family. 

Where  this  objection  does  not  interfere,  T  know 
©fno  principle  of  the  law  of  nature  applicable  to  the 
question,  beside  that  of  general  expediency. 

For,  if  we  say,  that  arbitrary  divorces  are  exclud- 
ed by  the  terms  of  the  marriage  contract,  it  may  be 
answered,  that  the  contract  might  be  so  framed  as  to 
admit  of  this  condition. 

If  we  argue  with  some  moralists,  that  the  obliga- 
tion of  a  contract  naturally  continues,  so  long  as  the 
purpose  which  the  contracting  parties  had  in  view, 
requires  its  continuance  ;  it  will  be  difficult  to  shew 
what  purpose  of  the  contract  (the  care  of  children 
excepted)  should  confine  a  man  to  a  woman,  from 
whom  he  seeks  to  be  loose. 

If  we  contend  with  others,  that  a  contract  cannot, 
by  the  law  of  nature,  be  dissolved,  unless  the  parties 
be  replaced  in  the  situation  which  each  possessed  be- 
fore the  contract  was  entered  into  ;  we  shall  be  call- 
ed upon  to  prove  this  to  be  an  universal  or  indispen- 
sable property  of  contracts. 

I  confess  myself  unable  to  assign  any  circumstance 
in  the  marriage  contract,  which  essentially  distin- 
guishes it  from  other  contracts,  or  which  proves 
that  it  contains,  what  many  have  ascribed  to  it,  a 
natural  Incapacity  of  being  dissolved  by  the  consent 
of  the  parties,  at  the  option  of  one  of  them,  or  ei-> 
ther  of  them.  But  if  we  trace  the  effects  of  such  a 
rule  upon  the  general  happiness  of  married  life,  we 
shall  perceive  reasons  of  expediency,  that  abundant- 
ly justify  the  policy  of  those  laws  which  refuse  to 
the  husband  the  power  of  divorce,  or  restrain  it  to 
a  few  extreme  and  specific  provocations  :  and  our 
principles  teach  us  to  pronounce  that  to  be  contrary 
to  the  law  of  nature,  which  can  be  proved  to  be  detri- 
mental to  the  common  happiness  of  the  human  species. 

A  lawgiver,  whose  counsels  are  directed  by  views 
of  general  utility,  and  obstructed  by  no  local  impedi- 
ment, would  make  the  marriage  contract  indissoluble 


Of  Divorce.  215 

during  the  joint  lives  of  the  parties,  for  the  sake  of 
the  following  advantages : 

I.  Because  this  tends  to  preserve  peace  and  con- 
Cord  betw^een  married  persons,  by  perpetuating  their 
common  interest,  and  by  inducing  a  necessity  of 
mutual  compliance. 

There  is  great  weight  and  substance  in  both  these 
considerations.  An  earlier  termination  of  the  union 
would  produce  a  separate  interest.  The  wife  would 
naturally  look  forward  to  the  dissolution  of  the 
partnership,  and  endeavour  to  draw  to  herself  a 
fund,  against  the  time  when  she  was  no  longer  to 
have  access  to  the  same  resources.  This  would  be« 
get  peculation  on  one  side,  and  mistrust  on  the  oth- 
er ;  evils  which  at  present  very  little  disturb  the  con= 
fidence  of  married  life.  The  second  eifect  of  ma- 
khig  the  union  determinable  only  by  death,  is  notr 
less  beneficial.  It  necessarily  happens  that  adverse 
tempers,  habits,  and  tastes,  oftentimes  meet  in  mar- 
riage, in  which  case,  each  party  must  take  pains  to 
give  up  what  offends,  and  practise  what  may  gratify 
the  other.  A  man  and  woman  in  love  with  each 
other,  do  this  insensibly  :  but  love  is  neither  general 
nor  durable  ;  and  where  that  is  wanting,  no  lessons 
of  duty,  no  delicacy  of  sentiment,  will  go  half  so 
far  with  the  generality  of  mankind  and  womankind, 
as  this  one  intelligible  reflection,  that  they  must  each 
make  the  best  of  their  bargain  ;  and  that  seeing 
they  must  either  both  be  miserable,  or  both  share  in 
the  same  happiness  ;  neither  can  find  their  own  com- 
fort but  in  promoting  the  pleasure  of  the  othen 
These  compliances,  though  at  first  extorted  by  ne- 
^^essity,  become  in  time  ea^y  and  mutual  ;  and 
ihough  less  endearing  than  assiduities  which  take 
their  rise  from  aflectlon,  generally  procure  to  the 
married  pair  a  repose  and  satisfaction  sufficient  for 
their  happiriess. 

II.  Because"  new  objects  of  desire  would  be  con^ 
••inuallv   -nought  after,  if  men  could,  at  will,  be  re- 


216  Of  Divorce. 

leased  from  their  subsisting  engagements*  Suppose 
the  husband  to  have  once  preferred  his  wife  to  all 
other  women,  the  duration  of  this  preference  cannot 
be  trusted  to.  Possession  makes  a  great  difference  : 
and  there  is  no  other  security  against  the  invitations 
of  novelty,  than  the  known  impossibility  of  obtain- 
ing the  object.  Did  the  cause,  which  brings  the 
sexes  together,  hold  them  together  by  the  same  force 
with  which  it  first  attracted  them  to  each  other,  or 
could  the  woman  be  restored  to  her  personal  integri- 
ty, and  to  all  the  advantages  of  her  virgin  estate ; 
the  power  of  divorce  might  be  deposited  in  the 
hands  of  the  husband,  with  less  danger  of  abuse  or 
inconveniency.  But  constituted  as  mankind  are, 
and  injured  as  the  repudiated  wife  generally  must 
be,  it  is  necessary  to  add  a  stability  to  the  condition 
of  married  women,  more  secure  than  the  continu- 
ance of  their  husband's  affection  ;  and  to  supply  to 
both  sides,  by  a  sense  of  duty  and  obligation,  what 
satiety  has  impaired  of  passion  and  of  per-^onal  at- 
tachment. Upon  the  whole,  the  power  of  divorce 
is  evidently  and  greatly  to  the  disadvantage  of  the 
woman  ;  and  the  only  question  appears  to  be,  wheth- 
er the  real  and  permanent  happiness  of  one  half  of 
the  species  should  be  surrendered  to  the  caprice  and 
voluptuousness  of  the  other  ? 

We  have  considered  divorces  as  depending  upon 
the  will  of  the  husband,  because  that  is  the  way  in 
which  they  have  actually  obtained  in  many  parts  of 
the  world  :  but  the  same  objections  apply,  in  a  great 
degree,  to  divorces  by  mutual  consent  ;  especially 
when  we  consider  the  indelicate  situation,  and  small 
prospect  of  happiness,  which  remains  to  the  party, 
who  opposed  his  or  her  dissent  to  the  liberty  and 
desire  of  the  other. 

The  law  of  nature  admits  of  an  exception  in  fa- 
vour of  the  injured  party,  in  cases  of  adultery,  of 
obstinate  desertion,  of  attempts  upon  life,  of  outra- 
geous cruelty,  of  inci^irable  madness,  and,  perhaps. 


Of  Divorce,  217 

of  personal  imbecility ;  but  by  no  means  indulges  ? 
the  same  privilege  to  mere  dislike,  to  opposition  of 
humours  and  inclinations,  to  contrariety  of  ta^^^te 
and  temper,  to  complaints  of  coldness,  neglect,  se- 
verity, peevishness,  jealousy  ;  not  that  these  reasons 
are  trivial,  but  because  such  objections  may  always 
be  alleged,  and  are  impossible  by  testimony  to  be  as- 
certained ;  so  that  to  allow  implicit  credit  to  them, 
and  to  dissolve  marriages  whenever  either  party 
thought  fit  to  pretend  them,  would  lead  in  its  effect 
to  all  the  licentiousness  of  arbitrary  divorces. 

Milton's  story  is  well  known.  Upon  a  quarrel 
with  his  wife,  he  paid  his  addresses  to  another  wom- 
an, and  set  forth  a  public  vindication  of  his  conduct, 
by  attempting  to  prove,  that  confirmed  dislike  was 
as  just  a  foundation  for  dissolving  the  marriage  con- 
tract, as  adultery  ;  to  which  position,  and  to  all  the 
arguments  by  which  it  can  be  supported,  the  above 
consideration  affords  a  sufficient  answer.  And  if  a 
married  pair,  in  actual  and  irreconcileable  discord, 
complain  that  their  happiness  would  be  better  con- 
sulted, by  permitting  them  to  determine  a.  connex- 
ion, which  has  become  odious  to  both,  it  may  be 
told  them  that  the  same  permission,  as  a  general 
rule,  would  produce  libertinism,  dissention,  and  mis- 
ery, amongst  thousands,  who  are  now  virtuous,  and 
quiet,  and  happy,  in  their  condition  :  and  it  ought  to 
satisfy  them  to  reflect,  that  when  their  happiness  is 
sacrificed  to  the  operation  of  an  unrelenting  rule,  it 
is  sacrificed  to  the  happiness  of  the  community. 

The  scriptures  seem  to  have  drawn  the  obligation 
tighter  than  the  law  of  nature  left  it.  "  Whosoever," 
saith  Chriit,  "  shall  put  away  his  wife,  except  it  be 
for  fornication,  and  shall  marry  another,  committeth 
adultery ;  and  whoso  marrieth  her  which  is  put 
away,  doth  commit  adultery.'*  Matt.  xix.  9.  The 
law  of  Moses,  for  reasons  of  local  expediency,  per- 
mitted the  Jewish  husband  to  put  away  his  wife  ; 
but  whether   for  every  cause,  or  for   what  causes. 


218  Of  Divorce. 

appears  to  have  been  controverted  amongst  the  in- 
terpreters of  those  times.  Christy  the  precepts  of 
whose  reh'gion  were  calculated  for  more  general  use 
and  observation,  revokes  this  permission,  as  given 
to  the  Jews  "for  the  hardness  of  their  hearts,"  and 
promulges  a  law  which  was  thenceforward  to  con- 
fine divorces  to  the  single  cause  of  adultery  in  the 
wife.  And  I  see  no  sufficient  reason  to  depart  from 
the  plain  and  strict  meaning  of  Christ's  words.  The 
rule  was  new.  It  both  surprised  and  offended  his 
disciples  ;  yet  Christ  added  nothing  to  relax  or  ex- 
plain it. 

Inferior  causes  may  justify  the  separation  of  hus- 
band and  wife,  ahhough  they  will  not  authorize  such 
a  dissolution  of  the  marriage  contract,  as  would 
leave  either  party  at  liberty  to  marry  again  ;  for  it 
is  that  liberty  in  which  the  danger  and  mischief  of 
divorces  principally  consist. 

If  the  care  of  children  does  not  reqiure  that  they 
should  live  together,  and  it  is  become,  in  the  serious 
judgment  of  both,  necessary  i^  ;^heir  mutual  happi- 
ness that  they  should  separate,  lei  them  separate  by 
consent.  Nevertheless,  this  necessity  can  hardly  ex- 
ist, without  guilt  and  misconduct  on  one  side  or  on 
both.  Moreover,  cruelty,  ill-usage,  extreme  vio- 
lence, or  moroseness  of  temper,  or  other  great  and 
continued  provocations,  make  it  lawful  for  the  par- 
ty aggrieved  to  withdraw  from  the  society  of  the  of- 
fender without  his  or  her  consent.  The  law  which 
imposes  the  marriage  vow,  whereby  the  parties 
promise  to  "  keep  to  each  other,"  or,  in  other 
words,  to  live  together,  must  be  understood  to  im- 
pose it  with  a  silent  reservation  of  these  cases  ;  be- 
cause the  same  law  has  constituted  a  judicial  relief 
from  the  tyranny  of  the  husband,  by  the  divorce  a 
mensa  et  toro^  and  by  the  provision  which  it  makes 
for  the  separate  maintenance  of  the  injured  wife. 
St.  Faul  likewise  distinguishes  between  a  wife's  mere- 
ly separating  herself  from  the  family  of  her  husband* 


Of  Divorce*  219 

and  her  marrying  again  :  "  Let  not  the  wife  depart 
from  her  husband  ;  but,  and  if  she  do  depart,  let  her 
remain  unmarried." 

The  law  of  this  country,  in  conformity  to  our 
Saviour*s  injunction,  confines  the  dissolution  of  the 
marriage  contract  to  the  single  case  of  adultery  in 
the  wife  ;  and  a  divorce  even  in  that  case  can  only 
be  brought  about  by  the  operation  of  an  act  of  par- 
liament, founded  upon  a  previous  sentence  in  the 
ecclesiastical  court,  and  a  verdict  against  the  adulter- 
er at  common  law  :  which  proceedings  taken  togeth- 
er compose  as  complete  an  investigation  of  the  com- 
plaint as  a  cause  can  receive.  It  has  lately  been  pro- 
posed to  the  legislature  to  annex  a  clause  to  these 
acts,  restraining  the  offending  party  from  marrying 
with  the  companion  of  her  crime,  who,  by  the  course 
of  proceeding,  is  always  known  and  convicted  ;  for 
there  is  reason  to  fear,  that  adulterous  connexions 
are  often  formed  with  the  prospect  of  bringing  them 
to  this  conclusion  ;  at  least,  when  the  seducer  has 
once  captivated  the  affection  of  a  married  woman, 
he  may  avail  himself  of  this  tempting  argument  to 
subdue  her  scruples,  and  complete  his  victory  ;  and 
the  legislature,  as  the  business  is  managed  at  present, 
assists  by  its  interposition  the  criminal  design  of  the 
offenders,  and  confers  a  privilege  where  it  ought  to 
inflict  a  punishment.  The  proposal  deserved  an  ex- 
periment ;  but  something  more  penal  will,  I  appre- 
hend, be  found  necessary  to  check  the  progress  of 
this  alarming  depravity.  Whether  a  law  might  not 
be  framed  directing  the  fortune  of  the  adulter  est  to  de- 
scend as  in  case  of  her  natural  death  ;  reserving,  how- 
ever, a  certain  proportion  of  the  produce  of  it,  by 
way  of  annuity,  for  her  subsistence  (such  annuity 
in  no  case  to  exceed  a  fixed  sum)  and  also  so  far  sus- 
pending the  estate  in  the  hands  of  the  heir  as  to  pre- 
serve the  inheritance  to  any  children  she  might  bear 
to  a  second  marriage,  in  case  there  was  none  to  suc- 
ceed in  the  place  of  their  mother  by  the  first  j  wheth. 


220  Of  Divorce. 

er,  I  say,  such  a  law  would  not  render  female  virtue 
in  higher  life  less  vincible,  as  well  as  the  seducers  of 
that  virtue  less  urgent  in  their  suit,  we  recommend 
to  the  deliberation  of  those,  who  are  willing  to  at- 
tempt the  reformation  of  this  important,  but  most 
incorrigible  class  of  the  community.  A  passion  for 
splendour,  for  expensive  amusements  and  distinctions, 
is  commonly  found,  in  that  description  of  women 
who  would  become  the  objects  of  such  a  law,  not 
less  inordinate  than  their  other  appetites.  A  severi- 
ty of  the  kind  we  propose  applies  immediately  to 
that  passion.  And  there  is  no  room  for  any  com- 
plaint of  injustice,  since  the  provisions  above  stated, 
with  others  which  might  be  contrived,  confine  the 
punishment,  so  far  as  it  is  possible,  to  the  person  of 
the  offender  ;  suffering  the  e.state  to  remain  to  the 
heir,  or  vithin  the  family,  of  the  ancestor  from 
whom  it  came,  or  to  attend  the  appointments  of  his 
will. 

Sentences  of  the  ecclesiastical  courts,  which  release 
the  parties  a  vinculo  matri?nonii  by  reason  of  impuber- 
ty,  frigidity,  consanguinity  within  the  prohibited  de- 
grees, prior  marriage,  or  want  of  the  requisite  con- 
sent of  parents  or  guardians,  are  not  dissolutions  of 
the  marriage  contract,  but  judicial  declarations,  that 
there  never  was  any  marriage ;  such  impediment 
subsisting  at  the  time,  as  rendered  the  celebration  of 
the  marriage  rite  a  mere  nullity.  And  the  rite  itself 
contains  an  exception  of  these  impediments.  The 
man  and  woman  to  be  married  are  charged,  "  if 
they  know  any  impediment  why  they  may  not  be 
lawfully  joined  together,  to  confess  it ;"  and  assured 
"  that  so  many  as  are  coupled  together,  otherwise 
than  God's  word  doth  allow,  are  not  joined  togeth- 
er by  God,  neither  is  their  matrimony  lawful  ;** 
all  which  is  intended  by  way  of  solemn  notice  to  the 
parties  that  the  vow  they  are  about  to  make  will 
bind  their  consciences  and  authorize  their  cohabita- 
tion only  upon  the  supposition  that  no  legal  impedi* 
ment  exists. 


Marriage,  221 

CHAPTER  VIH. 
MARRIAGE. 

Whether  it  hath  grown  out  of  some  tradi- 
tion of  the  divine  appointment  of  marriage  in  the 
persons  of  our  first  parents,  or  merely  from  a  design 
to  impress  the  obligation  of  the  marriage  contract 
with  a  solemnity  suited  to  its  importance,  the  mar- 
riage rite,  in  almost  all  countries  of  the  world,  has 
been  made  a  religious  ceremony  ;*  although  mar- 
riage in  its  own  nature,  and  abstracted  from  the  rules 
and  declarations  which  the  Jewish  and  Christian 
scriptures  deliver  concerning  it,  be  properly  a  civil 
contract,  and  nothing  more. 

With  respect  to  one  main  article  in  matrimonial 
alliances,  a  total  alteration  has  taken  place  in  the 
fashion  of  the  world  ;  the  wife  now  brings  money 
to  her  husband,  whereas  anciently  the  husband  paid 
money  to  the  family  of  the  wife ;  as  was  the  case 
among  the  Jewish  patriarchs,  the  Greeks,  and  the  old 
inhabitants  of  Ger7iiany.\  This  alteration  has  proved 
of  no  small  advantage  to  the  female  sex  j  for  their 
importance  in  point  of  fortune  procures  to  them,  in 
modern  times,  that  assiduity  and  respect,  which  are 
always  wanted  to  compensate  for  the  inferiority  of 
their  strength  ;  but  which  their  personal  attractions 
would  not  always  secure. 

Our  business  is  with  marriage  as  It  is  established 
In  this  country.  And  in  treating  thereof,  it  will  be 
necessary  to  state  the  terms  of  the  marriage  vow,  in 
order  to  discover, 

1.  What  duties  this  vow  creates. 

*  It  wasnotliowever  InChristian  countries  required  that  iT!anJaj(esshou'd 
be  celebrated  in  churches  tiil  the  thirteenth  century  of  the  Christian  era. 
Marriages  ?ii  England  dy^r.ng  the  Usurpation  were  soIemni7.*^d  hefbfi- justices 
of  the  peace  ;  hut  for  what  purpose  this  novelty  was  introduced,  except  to 
degrade  the  clergy,  does  not  appear. 

fThe  ancient  Assyrians  so\dt  \.h.e\r  leauikshy  an  annna!  auction.  The 
prices  were  applied  by  way  of  portions  to  the  more  hom<  )y.  By  this  con- 
'.Ivancc  all  of  hoth  borts  Vi^re  disposed  of 'n  jnarriage. 


li'22  Marriage. 

2.  What  a  situation  of  mind  at  the  time  is  incon-i 
si  stent  with  it. 

3.  By  what  vsubsequent  behaviour  it  is  violated. 

The  husband  promises  on  his  part,  "  to  love,  com- 
fort, honour,  and  keep  his  wife  ;"  the  wife  on  hers, 
"  to  obey,  serve,  love,  honour,  and  keep  her  hus- 
band ;"  in  every  variety  of  health,  fortune,  and  con- 
dition ;  and  both  stipulate,  "  to  forsake  all  others, 
and  to  keep  only  unto  one  another,  so  long  as  they 
both  shall  live."  This  promise  is  called  the  marriage 
vow  ;  is  witnessed  before  God  and  the  congregation  ; 
accompained  with  prayers  to  Almighty  God  for  his 
blessing  upon  it ;  and  attended  with  such  circum- 
stances of  devotion  and  solemnity,  as  place  the  obli- 
<ration  of  it,  and  the  guilt  of  violating  it,  nearly  up- 
on the  same  foundation  with  that  of  oaths. 

The  parties  by  this  vow 'engage  their  personal  fi- 
delity expressly  and  specifically;  they  engage  likewise 
to  consult  and  promote  each  other's  happiness ;  the 
wife,  moreover,  promises  obedience  to  her  husband. 
Nature  may  have  made  and  left  the  sexes  of  the  hu- 
man species  nearly  equal  in  their  faculties,  and  per- 
fectly so-  in  their  i'ights ;  but  to  guard  against  those 
competitions  which  equality,  or  a  contested  superior- 
ity is  almost  sure  to  produce,  the  Christian  scriptures 
enjoin  upon  the  wife  that  obedience  which  she  here 
promises,  and  in  terms  so  peremptory  and  absolute, 
that  it  seems  to  extend  to  every  thing  not  criminalj, 
or  not  entirely  inconsistent  with  the  woman's  hap- 
piness. "  Let  the  wife,"  says  St  Paul,  "be  subject 
to  her  own  husband  in  every  thing."  "  Ihe  orna- 
ment of  a  meek  and  quiet  spirit  (says  the  Apostle  Pe- 
ter, speaking  of  the  duty  of  wives  )  is  in  the  sight  of 
God  of  great  price."  No  words  ever  expressed  the 
true  merit  of  the  female  character  so  well  as  these. 

The  condition  of  human  life  will  not  permit  us  to 
say,  that  no  one  can  conscientiously  marry,  who  does 
not  prefer  the  person  at  the  altar  to  all  other  men  or 
women  in  the  world  :  but  we  can  have  no  difficulty 
in  pronouncing  (whether   we  respect  the  end  of  the 


Marriage'  223 

institution,  or  the  plain  terms  in  which  the  contract 
is  conceived)  that  whoever  is  conscious,  at  the  time 
of  his  marriage,  of  such  a  dislike  to  the  woman  he 
is  about  to  marry,  or  of  such  a  subsisting  attachment 
to  some  other  woman,  that  he  cannot  reasonably,  nor 
does  in  fact,  expect  ever  to  entertain  an  affection 
for  his  future  wife,  is  guilty,  when  he  pronounces 
the  marriage  vow,  of  a  direct  and  deliberate  prevar- 
ication ;  and  that  too,  aggravated  by  the  presence 
of  those  ideas  of  religion,  and  of  the  Supreme  Being, 
which  the  place,  the  ritual,  and  the  solemnity  of  the 
occasion,  cannot  fail  of  bringing  to  his  thoughts. 
The  same  likewise  of  the  woman.  This  charge  must 
be  imputed  to  all,  who,  from  mercenary  motives, 
marry  the  objects  of  their  aversion  and  disgust  ;  and 
likewise  to  those  who  desert,  from  any  motive  what- 
ever, the  objects  of  their  affection,  and,  without  be- 
ing able  to  subdue  that  affection,  marry  another. 

The  crime  of  falsehood  is  also  incurred  by  the  man, 
who  intends,  at  the  time  of  his  marriage,  to  com- 
mence, renew,  or  continue  a  personal  commerce 
with  any  other  woman.  And  the  parity  of  reason, 
if  a  wife  be  capable  of  so  much  guilt,  extends  to  her. 

The  marriage  vow  is  violated, 

1.  By  adultery. 

2.  By  any  behaviour,  which,  knowingly,  renders 
the  life  of  the  other  miserable  ;  as  desertion,  neglect, 
prodigality,  drunkenness,  peevishness,  penuriousnesSj 
jealousy,  or  any  levity  of  conduct,  which  administers 
occasion  of  jealousy. 

A  late  regulation  in  the  law  of  marriages,  in  this 
country,  has  made  the  consenfof  the  father,  if  he  be 
living,  of  the  mother,  if  she  survive  the  father,  and 
remain  unmarried,  or  of  guardians,  if  both  parents 
be  dead,  necessary  to  the  marriage  of  a  person  under 
twenty  one  years  of  age.  By  the  Roman  law,  the 
consent  et  avi  ct  patris  was  required  so  long  as  they 
'jvf^d.     In  France^  the  consent  of  parents  is  necessary 


224  Duty  of  Parents. 

to  the  marriage  of  sons,  until  they  attain  to  thirty 
years  of  age  ;  of  daughter*--,  until  twenty-five.  In 
Holland,  for  sons  till  twenty-five  ;  for  daughters,  till 
twenty.  And  this  distinction  between  the  sexes  ap- 
pears to  be  well  founded,  for  a  woman  is  usually  as 
properly  quaUfied  for  the  domestic  and  interior  du- 
ties of  a  wife  or  mother  at  eighteen,  as  a  man  is  for 
the  business  of  the  world  and  the  more  arduous  care 
of  providing  for  a  family  at  twenty-one. 

The  constitution  also  of  the  human  species  indicates 
the  same  distinction.* 


CHAPTER  IX. 


,j* 


OF  THE  DUTY  OF  PARENTS. 

1  HAT  virtue,  which  confines  its  beneficence 
within  the  walls  of  a  man's  own  house,  we  have  been 
accustomed  to  consider  as  little  better  than  a  more 
refined  selfishness  ;  and  yet  it  will  be  confessed,  that 
the  subject  and  matter  of  this  class  of  duties  are  infe- 
rior to  none,  in  utility  and  importance  :  and  where, 
it  may  be  asked,  is  virtue  the  most  valuable,  but 
"where  it  does  the  most  good  ?  What  duty  is  the  most 
obligatory,  but  that,  on  which  the  most  depends  ? 
And  where  have  we  happiness  and  misery  so  much 
in  our  power,  or  liable  to  be  so  affected  by  our  con- 
duct, as  in  our  own  families  ?  It  will  also  be  acknowl- 
edped,  that  the  good  order  and  happiness  of  the 
world  are  better  upheld,  v^hilst  each  man  applies 
himself  to  his  own  concerns  and  the  care  of  his  own 
family,  to  which  he  is  present,  than  if  every  man, 
from  an  excess  of  mistaken  generosity,  should  leave 
his  own  buiness,  to  undertake  his  neighbour's, 
which  he  must  always  manage  with  less  knowledge, 
conveniency,  and  success.     If,  therefore,  the  low  esti- 

*  Cum  vis  prolem  procrenndi  diiitius  hxrcat  in  mare  quam  in  foemina, 
populi  Eumerus  uequaquam  iiiinuetur,  si  se;  ius  venerem  colere  inccperint 
vixi. 


Duty  of  Parents.  225 

mation  of  these  virtues  be  well  founded,  it  must  be 
owing  not  to  their  inferior  importance,  but  to  some 
defect  or  impurity  in  the  motive.  And  indeed  it 
cannot  be  denied,  but  that  it  is  in  the  power  of  asso- 
ciation, so  to  unite  our  children's  interest  whh  our 
own,  as  that  we  should  often  pursue  both  from  the 
same  motive,  place  both  in  the  same  object,  and 
with  as  little  sense  of  duty  in  one  pursuit  as  in  the 
other.  Where  this  is  the  case,  the  judgment  above 
stated  is  not  far  from  the  truth.  And  so  often  as  we 
fmd  a  solicitous  care  of  a  man's  own  family,  in  a  total 
absence  or  extreme  penury  of  every  other  virtue, 
or  interfering  with  other  duties,  or  directing  its 
operation  solely  to  the  temporal  happiness  of  the  chil- 
dren, placing  that  happiness  and  amusement  in  indul- 
gence whilst  they  are  young,  or  in  advancement  of 
fortune  when  they  grow  up,  there  is  reason  to  be- 
lieve that  this  is  the  case.  In  this  way  the  common 
opinion  concerning  these  duties  may  be  accounted 
for  and  defended.  If  we  look  to  the  subject  of 
them,  we  perceive  them  to  be  indispensable :  if  we 
regard  the  motive,  we  find  them  often  not  very  mer- 
itorious. Wherefore, although  a  man  seldom  rises  high 
in  our  esteem  v;ho  has  nothing  to  recommend  him 
beside  the  care  of  his  own  fLmiily,  yet  we  always  con- 
demn the  neglect  of  this  duty  with  the  utmost  severi- 
ty ;  both  by  reason  of  the  manifest  and  immediate  mis- 
chief which  we  see  arising  from  this  neglect,  and  be- 
cause it  argues  a  want  not  only  of  parental  affection, 
but  of  those  moral  principles,  which  ought  to  come 
in  aid  of  that  affection,  where  it  is  wanting.  And 
if,  on  the  other  hand,  our  praise  and  esteem  of  these 
duties  be  not  proportioned  to  the  good  they  produce, 
or  to  the  indignation  with  which  we  resent  the  ab- 
sence of  them,  it  is  for  this  reason,  that  virtue  is 
the  most  valuable,  not  where  it  produces  the  most 
good,  but  where  it  is  the  most  wanted  ;  which  is 
not  the  case  here  ;  because  its  place  is  often  supplied 
by  instincts,  or  involuntary  associations.  Neverthe^ 
less,  the  offices  of  a  parent  may  be  discharged  from  J| 


226  Duty  of  Parents. 

consciousness  of  their  obligation,  as  well  as  other  du- 
ties ;  and  a  sense  of  this  obligation  is  sometimes  nec- 
essary to  assist  the  stimulus  of  parental  affection ; 
especially  in  stations  of  life,  in  which  the  wants  of 
a  family  cannot  be  supplied  without  the  continual 
hard  labour  of  the  father,  nor  without  his  refrain- 
ing from  many  indulgences  and  recreations,  which 
unmarried  men  of  like  condition  are  able  to  pur- 
chase. Where  the  parental  affection  is  sufficiently 
strong,  or  has  fewer  difficulties  to  surmount,  a  prin- 
ciple of  duty  may  still  be  wanted  to  direct  and  regu- 
late its  exertions  ;  for  otherwise,  it  is  apt  to  spend 
and  waste  itself  in  a  womanish  fondness  for  the  per- 
son of  the  child  ;  an  improvident  attention  to  his 
present  ease  and  gratification ;  a  pernicious  facility 
and  compliance  with  his  humours ;  an  excessive 
and  superfluous  care  to  provide  the  externals  of 
happiness,  with  little  or  no  attention  to  the  internal 
sources  of  virtue  and  satisfaction.  Universally, 
wherever  a  parent's  conduct  is  prompted  or  directed 
by  a  sense  of  duty,  there  is  so  much  virtue. 

Having  premised  thus  much  concerning  the  place 
which  parental  duties  hold  in  the  scale  of  human 
virtues,  we  proceed  to  state  and  explain  the  duties 
themselves. 

When  moralists  tell  us,  that  parents  are  bound  to 
do  all  they  can  for  their  children,  they  tell  us  more 
than  is  true  ;  for,  at  that  rate,  every  expense  which 
might  have  been  spared,  and  every  profit  omitted 
which  might  have  been  made  would  be  criminal. 

The  duty  of  parents  has  its  limits,  like  other  du- 
ties ;  and  admits,  if  not  of  perfect  precision,  at  least 
of  rules  definite  enough  for  application. 

These  rules  may  be  explained  under  the  several 
heads  of  maintenance^  education^  and^  reasonable  provis- 
ion for  the  child' s  happiness  in  respect  of  outward  condition, 

I.  Maintenance, 

The  wants  of  children  make  it  necessary  that 
some  person  maintain  them  ;  and,  as  no  one  has 
a  right  to  burthen  others  by  his  act,  it  follows, 


Duty  of  Parents  227 

.that  the  parents  are  bound  to  undertake  this  charge 
themselves.  Beside  this  plain  inference,  the  affec- 
tion of  parents  to  their  children,  if  it  be  instinctive, 
and  the  provision  which  nature  has  prepared  in  the 
person  of  the  mother  for  the  sustentation  of  the  in- 
fant, concerning  the  existence  and  design  of  which 
there  can  be  no  doubt,  are  manifest  indications  of  the 
divine  will. 

From  hence  we  learn  the  guilt  of  those,  who  run 
away  from  their  families,  or  (what  is  much  the 
same)  in  consequence  of  idleness  or  drunkenness, 
throw  them  upon  a  parish  ;  or  who  leave  them  des- 
titute at  their  death,  when,  by  diligence  and  frugal- 
ity, they  might  have  laid  up  a  provision  for  their 
support :  also  of  those,  who  refu;^e  or  neglect  the 
care  of  their  bastard  offspring,  abandoning  them  to 
a  condition  in  which  they  must  either  perish  or  be- 
come burthensome  to  others  ;  for  the  duty  of  main- 
tenence,  like  the  reason  upon  which  it  is  founded, 
extends  to  bastards,  as  well  as  to  legitimate  children. 

The  Christian  scriptures,  although  they  concern 
themselves  little  with  maxims  of  prudence  or  econ- 
omy ,and  much  less  authorize  worldly-mindedness  or 
avarice,  have  yet  declared  in  explicit  terms  their 
judgment  of  the  obligation  of  this  duty  :  "  If  any 
provide  not  for  his  own,  especially  for  those  of  his 
own  household,  he  hath  denied  the  faith,  and  is 
worse  than  an  infidel ;"  (1  Tim.  v.  8.)  he  hath  dis' 
graced  the  Christian  profession,  and  fallen  short  in  a 
duty  which  even  infidels  acknowledge, 

II.     Education. 

Education,  in  the  most  extensive  sense  of  the 
word,  may  comprehend  every  preparation  that  is 
made  in  our  youth  for  the  sequel  of  our  lives  :  and 
in  this  sense  1  use  it. 

Some  such  preparation  is  necessary  for  children  of 
all  conditions,  because,  without  it,  they  must  be  mis- 
erable, and  probably  will  be  vicious,  when  they  grow 
up,  either  from  want  of  the  means  of  subsistence,  or 
from   want   of  rational  and   inoffensive  occupation. 


228  Duty  of  Parents. 

In  civilized  life,  every  thing  is  effected  by  art  and 
skill.  Whence  a  person  who  is  provided  with  nei- 
ther (and  neither  can  be  acquired  without  exercise 
and  instruction)  will  be  useless ;  and  he  that  is  use- 
less, will  generally  be  at  the  same  time  mischeivous 
to  the  community.  So  that  to  send  an  uneducated 
child  into  the  world  is  injurous  to  the  rest  of  man^ 
kind  ;  it  is  little  better  than  to  turn  out  a  mad  dog, 
or  a  wild  beast  into  the  streets. 

In  the  inferior  classes  of  the  community,  this  prin- 
ciple condemns  the  neglect  of  parents,  who  do  not 
inure  their  children  betimes  to  labour  and  restraint, 
by  providing  them  with  apprenticeships,  service.*,  or 
other  regular  employment,  but  who  suffer  them  to 
■waste  their  youth  in  idleness  and  vagrancy,  or  to  be- 
take themselves  to  some  lazy,  trifling,  and  precarious 
calling  :  for  the  consequence  of  having  thus  tasted  the 
sweets  of  natural  liberty,  at  an  age  when  their  pas- 
sion and  relish  for  it  are  at  the  highest,  is,  that  they 
become  incapable  for  the  remainder  of  their  lives  of 
continued  industry,  or  of  preserving  attention  to 
any  thing  ;  spend  their  time  in  a  miserable  struggle 
between  the  importunity  of  want,  and  the  irksome- 
ness  of  regular  application  ;  and  are  prepared  to  em- 
brace every  expedient,  which  presents  a  hope  of  sup- 
plying their  necessities  without  confining  them  to  the 
plough,  the  loom,  the  shop,  or  the  counting-house. 

In  the  middle  orders  of  society,  those  parents  are 
most  reprehensible,  who  neither  qualify  their  chil- 
dren for  a  profession,  nor  enable  them  to  live  without 
one  :*  and  those  in  the  highest,  who,  from  indolence, 
indulgence,  or  avarice,  omit  to  procure  their  chil- 
dren those  liberal  attainments,  which  are  necessary  to 
make  them  useful  in  the  stations  to  which  they  are  des- 
tined. A  man  of  fortune,  who  permits  his  son  to  con- 
sume the  season  of  education,  in  hunting,  shooting,  or 
in  frequenting  horse-races,  assemblies,  or  other  uned- 

*  Amongst  the  Athenians,  if  the  parent  did  not  put  his  child  into  a  way 
of  getting  a  livelihood,  the  child  was  not  bound  to  make  provision  for 
tlie  parent  when  old  and  necessitous. 


Duty  of  Parents.  329 

ifying,  if  not  vicious  diversions,  defrauds  the  commu- 
nity of  a  benefactor,  and  bequeaths  theni  a  nuisance. 

Some,  though  not  the  same,  preparation  for  the 
sequel  of  their  lives,  is  necessary  for  youth  of  every 
description ;  and  therefore  for  bastards,  as  well  as 
for  children  of  better  expectations.  Consequently, 
they  who  leave  the  education  of  their  bastards  to 
chance,  contenting  themselves  with  making  provi- 
sion for  their  subsistence,  desert  half  their  duty. 

III.  A  reasonable  provision  for  the  happiness  of  a 
child  in  respect  of  outward  condition,  requires  three 
things :  a  situation  suited  to  his  habits  and  reasona- 
ble expectations  ;  a  competent  provision  for  the  exi- 
gences of  that  situation  j  and  a  probable  security  for 
Iws  virtue* 

The  two  first  articles  will  vary  with  the  condi- 
tion of  the  parent.  A  situation  somewhat  approach- 
ing in  rank  and  condition  to  the  parent's  own ;  or, 
where  that  is  not  practicable,  similar  to  what  other 
parents  of  like  condition  provide  for  their  children, 
bounds  the  reasonable,  as  well  as  (generally  speak- 
ing) the  actual  expectations  of  the  child,  and  there- 
fore contains  the  extent  of  the  parent's  obligation. 

Hence,  a  peasant  satisfies  his  duty,  who  sends  out 
his  children,  properly  instructed  for  their  occupa- 
tion, to  husbandry,  or  to  any  branch  of  manufac- 
ture. Clergymen,  lawyers,  physicians,  officers  in 
the  army  or  navy,  gentlemen  possessing  moderate 
fortunes  of  inheritance,  or  exercising  trade  in  a 
large  or  liberal  way,  are  required  by  the  same  rule  to 
provide  their  sons  with  learned  professions,  commis- 
sions in  the  army  or  navy,  places  in  public  offices, 
or  reputable  branches  of  merchandize.  Providing 
a  child  with  a  situation,  includes  a  competent  sup- 
ply for  the  expenses  of  that  situation,  until  the  prof- 
its of  it  enable  the  child  to  support  himself.  Noble- 
men, and  gentlemen  of  high  rank  and  fortune,  n\ay 
be  bound  to  transmit  an  inheritance  to  the  repre- 
sentatives of  their  family,  sufficient  for  their  support 
without  the  aid  of  a   trade  or  profession,  to  which 


^3^  Duty  of  Parents. 

there  is  little  hope  that  a  youth,  who  has  been  flat- 
tered with  other  expectations,  will  apply  himself 
with  diligence  or  success.  In  these  parts  of  the 
world,  public  opinion  has  assorted  the  members  of 
the  community  into  four  or  five  general  classes,  each 
class  comprising  a  great  variety  of  employments  and 
professions,  the  choice  of  which  must  be  committed 
to  the  private  discretion  of  the  parent.*  All  that 
can  be  expected  from  parents  as  a  duty,  and  therefore 
the  only  rule  which  a  moralist  can  deliver  upon  the 
subject  is,  that  they  endeavour  to  preserve  their  chil- 
dren in  the  class  in  which  they  are  born,  that  is  to 
t^ay,  in  which  others  of  similar  expectations  are  accus- 
tomed to  be  placed  ;  and  that  they  be  careful  to  con- 
fine their  hopes  and  habits  of  indulgence  to  objects 
which  will  continue  to  be  attainable. 

It  is  an  ill-judged  thrift  in  some  rich  parents,  to 
bring  up  their  sons  to  mean  employments,  for  the 
sake  of  saving  the  charge  of  a  more  expensive  educa- 
tion :  for  these  sons,  when  they  become  masters  of 
their  liberty  and  fortune,  will  hardly  continue  in 
occupations  by  which  they  think  themselves  degra- 
ded, and  are  seldom  qualified  for  any  thing  better. 

*TIie  health  and  virtue  of  a  child's  future  life  are  considerations  so  supe- 
rior to  all  others,  that  whatever  is  likely  to  have  the  smallest  influence  upon 
these,  deserves  the  pareiit's first  attention  In  respect  of  health,  agriculture, 
and  all  active,  rural,  and  out-of-door  employments,  are  to  be  preferred  to 
manufactures,  and  sedentary  occupations.  In  respect  of  virtue, a  course  of 
dealing's  in  which  the  advantage  is  mutual, 'in  which  the  profit  on  one  sideis 
connected  with  the  benefit  of  the  other  (which  is  the  case  in  trade,  and  all 
serviceable  art  or  labour)  is  more  favourable  to  the  moral  character,  than 
callings  in  which  one  man's  gain  is  another  man's  loss;  in  which  what  you 
acquire,  is  acquired  without  equivalent,  and  parted  within  distress;  as  in 
gaming,  and  whatever  partakes  of  gaming,  and  in  the  predatory  profits  of 
war.  The  following  distinctions  also  deserve  notice.  A  business,  like  a  re- 
tail trade,  in  which  the  profits  are  small  and  frequent,  and  accruing] from  the 
employment,  furnishes  a  moderate  and  constant  engagement  to  tlie  mind, 
and  so  far  suits  better  with  the  general  disposition  of  mankind,  than  profes- 
."iions  which  are  supported  by  fixed  salarie?;,  as  stations  in  the  church,  army, 
navy,  revenue,  public  offices,  &c.  or  wherein  the  profits  are  made  in  large 
sums, by  a  few  great  concerns,  or  fortunate  adventures:  as  in  many  brandi- 
es of  wholesale  and  foreign  merchandi7.e,in  which  the  occupation  is  neither 
so  constant,  nor  the  activity  so  kept  alive  by  immediate  encouragement. 
For  security,  manual  arts  exceed  merchandize,  and  such  as  supply  the  wants 
of  mankind  are  better  than  those  which  minister  to  their  pleasure.  Situations 
which  promise  an  early  settlement  in  marrisge,  are  on  many  accounts  to  be 
thoEcn  before  those  which  require  a  longer  waiciag  for  a  larger  establishment. 


Duty  of  Parents,  23 1 

An  attention,  in  the  first  place,  to  the  exigences 
of  the  children's  respective  conditions  in  the  world  ; 
and  a  regard  in  the  second  place,  to  their  reasonable 
expectatations,  always  postponing  the  expectations  to 
the  exigences,  when  both  cannot  be  satisfied,  ought 
to  guide  parents  in  the  disposal  of  their  fortunes 
after  their  death.  And  these  exigences  and  ex- 
pectations must  be  measured  by  the  standard  which 
custom  has  established  ;  for  there  is  a  certain  appear- 
ance, attendance,  establishment,  and  mode  of  livings 
which  custom  has  annexed  to  the  several  ranks  and 
orders  of  civil  life  (and  which  compose  what  is  called 
decency)  together  with  a  certain  society,  and  partic- 
ular pleasures  belonging  to  each  class  :  and  a  young 
person,  who  is  witheld  from  sharing  in  these  for 
want  of  fortune,  can  scarcely  be  said  to  have  a  fair 
chance  for  happiness  ;  the  indignity  and  mortifica- 
tion of  such  a  seclusion  being  what  few  tempers  can 
bear,  or  bear  with  contentment.  And  as  to  the  sec- 
ond consideration,  of  what  a  child  may  reasonably 
expect  from  his  parent,  he  will  expect  what  he  sees 
all  or  most  others  in  similar  circumstances  receive  ; 
and  we  can  hardly  call  expectations  unreasonable, 
which  it  is  impossible  to  suppress. 

By  virtue  of  this  rule,  a  parent  is  justified  in  ma- 
king a  difference  between  his  children,  according  as 
they  stand  in  greater  or  less  need  of  the  assistance 
of  his  fortune,  in  consequence  of  the  difference  of 
their  age  or  sex,  or  of  the  situations  in  which  they  are 
placed,  or  the  various  success  which  they  have  met 
with. 

On  account  of  the  few  lucrative  employments 
which  are  left  to  the  female  sex,  and  by  consequence 
the  little  opportunity  they  have  of  adding  to  their 
income,  daughters  ought  to  be  the  particular  objects 
of  a  parent's  care  and  foresight  ;  and  as  an  option 
of  marriage,  from  which  they  can  reasonably  ex- 
pect happiness,  is  not  presented  to  every  woman  who 
deserves  it,  especially  in  times  in  which  a  licentious 

F    F 


2S2  Duty  of  Parents^* 

celibacy  is  in  fashion  with  the  men,  a  father  should 
endeavour  to  enrt':»le  his  daughters  to  lead  a  single 
life  with  independency  and  decorum,  even  though 
he  subtract  more  for  that  purpose  from  the  portions 
of  his  sons,  than  is  agreeable  to  modern  usage,  or  than 
they  expect. 

But  when  the  exigences  of  their  several  situations 
are  provided  for,  and  not  before,  a  parent  ought 
to  admit  the  second  consideration,  the  satisfaction  of 
his  children's  expectations  ;  and  upon  that  principle 
to  prefer  the  eldest  son  to  the  rests  and  sons  to 
daughters :  which  constitutes  the  right,  and  the 
whole  right  of  primogeniture,  as  v/ell  as  the  only 
reason  for  the  preference  of  one  sex  to  the  other. 
The  preference,  indeed,  of  the  first  born  has  one 
public  good  effect,  that  if  the  estate  were  divided 
equally  amongst  the  sons,  it  would  probably  make 
them  all  idle  ;  whereas,  by  the  present  rule  of  de- 
scent, it  makes  only  one  so  ;  which  is  the  less  evil  of 
the  two.  And  it  must  farther  be  observed  on  the 
part  of  sons,  that  if  the  rest  of  the  community  make 
it  a  rule  to  prefer  sons  to  daughters,  an  individual 
of  that  community  ought  to  guide  himself  by  the 
same  rule,  upon  principles  of  mere  equality.  For, 
as  the  son  suffers  by  the  rule  in  the  fortune  he  may 
expect  in  marriage,  it  is  but  reasonable  that  he 
should  receive  the  advantage  of  it  in  his  own  inher- 
itance. Indeed,  whatever  the  rule  be,  as  to  the 
preference  of  one  sex  to  the  other,  marriage  restores 
the  equality.  And  a^s  money  is  generally  more 
convertible  to  profit,  and  more  likely  to  promote 
industry,  in  the  hands  of  men  than  of  women,  the 
custom  of  this  country  may  properly  be  complied 
vvirh,  when  it  does  not  interfere  with  the  weightier 
reason  explained  in  the  last  paragraph. 

The  point  of  the  chikircn's  actual  expectations,  to- 
gether with  the  expediency  of  subjecting  the  illicit 
commerce  of  the  sexes  to  every  discouragement 
which  it  can  receive,  makes  the  difference  between 
the  claims  of  legitimate  children  and  of  bastards.  Bat 


Duty  of  Parents.  23S 

neither  reason  will  in  any  case  justify  the  leaving  of 
bastards  to  the  world,  without  provision,  education, 
or  profession  ;  or,  what  is  more  cruel,  without  the 
means  of  continuing  in  the  situation  to  which  the  pa- 
rent has  introduced  them  :  which  last,  is  to  leave 
them  to  inevitable  misery. 

After  the  first  requisite,  namely,  a  provision  for 
the  exigences  of  his  situation,  is  satisfied,  a  parent 
may  diminish  a  child's  portion,  in  order  to  punish 
any  flagrant  crime,  or  to  punish  contumacy  and 
want  of  filial  duty  in  instances  not  otherwise  crimi- 
nal ;  for  a  child  who  is  conscious  of  bad  behaviour, 
or  of  contempt  of  his  parent's  will  and  happiness, 
cannot  reasonably  expect  the  same  instances  of  his 
munificence. 

A  child's  vices  may  be  of  that  sort,  and  his  vicious 
habits  so  incorrigible,  as  to  afford  much  the  same 
reason  for  believing  that  he  will  waste  or  misemploy 
the  fortune  put  into  his  power,  as  if  he  were  mad 
or  idiotish,  in  which  case  a  parent  may  treat  him  as  a 
mad  man  or  an  idiot  ;  that  is,  mz^y  deem  it  sufficient 
to  provide  for  his  support  by  an  annuity  equal  to 
his  wants  and  innocent  enjoyments,  and  which  he 
maybe  restrained  from  alienating.  This  seems  to 
be  the  only  case  in  which  a  disinherison,  nearly  ab- 
solute, is  justifiable. 

Let  not  a  father  hope  to  excuse  an  inofficious  di  » 
position  of  his  fortune,  by  alleging,  that  "  every 
man  may  do  what  he  will  with  his  own."  All  the 
truth  which  this  expression  contains,  is,  that  his 
discretion  is  under  no  control  of  law  ;  and  that  his 
will,  however  capricious,  will  be  valid.  This  by  no 
means  absolves  his  conscience  from  the  obligations 
of  a  parent,  or  imports  that  he  may  neglect,  with- 
out injustice,  the  several  wants  and  expectations  of 
his  family,  in  order  to  gratify  a  whim  or  a  pique, 
or  indulge  a  preference  founded  in  no  reasonable 
distinction  of  merit  or  situation.  Although  in  his 
intercourse  with  his  family,  and  in  the  lesser  endear-p 
jnents  of  domestic   life,  a  parent   may  not  always 


234  Duty  of  Parents. 

resist  his  partiality  to  a  favourite  child  (which,  how- 
ever, should  be  both  avoided  and  concealed,  as  often- 
times productive  of  lasting  jeolousies  and  discon- 
tents ;)  yet,  when  he  sits  down  to  make  his  will, 
these  tendernesses  must  give  place  to  more  manly 
deliberations. 

A  father  of  a  family  is  bound  to  adjust  his  econo- 
my with  a  view  to  these  demands  upon  his  fortune  ; 
and  until  a  sifficiency  for  these  ends  is  acquired,  or 
in  due  time  probably  will  be  acquired  (for  in  human 
affairs  probability  ought  to  content  us)  frugahty  and 
exertions  of  industry  are  duties.  He  is  also  justified 
in  the  declining  expensive  liberality  ;  for,  to  take 
from  those  who  want,  in  order  to  give  to  those  who 
want,  adds  nothing  to  the  stock  of  public  happiness. 
Thus  far,  therefore,  and  no  farther,  the  plea  of 
"  children,"  of"  large  families,'*  "  charity  begins  at 
home,"  &c.  is  an  excu  .e  for  parsimony,  and  an  an- 
swer to  those  who  solicit  our  bounty.  Beyond  this 
point,  as  the  use  of  riches  becomes  less,  the  desire  of 
laying  up  should  abate  proportionably.  The  truth 
is,  our  children  gain  not  so  much  as  we  imagine,  in 
the  chance  of  this  world's  happiness,  or  even  of  its 
external  prosperity,  by  setting  out  in  it  with  large 
capitals.  Of  those  who  have  died  rich,  a  great  part 
began  with  little.  And,  in  respect  of  enjoyment, 
there  is  no  comparison  between  a  fortune,  which  a 
man  acquires  by  well  applied  industry,  or  by  a  series 
of  successes  in  his  business,  and  one  found  in  his 
possession,  or  received  from  another. 

A  principal  part  of  a  parent's  duty  is  still  behind, 
viz.  the  using  of  proper  precautions  and  expedients, 
in  order  to  form  and  preserve  his  children's  virtue. 

To  us,  who  believe  that  in  one  stage  or  other  of 
our  existence  virtue  will  conduct  to  happiness,  and 
vice  terminate  in  misery ;  and  who  observe  withal, 
that  men's  virtues  and  vices  are,  to  a  certain  degree, 
produced  or  affected  by  the  management  of  their 
youth,  and  the  situations  in  which  they  are  placed  j 
to  all  who  attend  to  these  reasons^  the  obligation  to 


Duty  of  Parents.  235 

consult  a  child's  virtue  will  appear  to  differ  in  noth- 
ing from  that  by  which  the  parent  is  bound  to  pro- 
vide for  his  maintenance  or  fortune.  The  child's 
interest  is  concerned  in  the  one  means  of  happiness  as 
well  as  in  the  other  ;  and  both  means  are  equally, 
and  almost  exclusively,  in  the  parent's  power. 

For  this  purpose,  the  first  point  to  be  endeavoured 
after  is,  to  impress  upon  children  the  idea  of  account- 
ableness^  that  is,  to  accustom  them  to  look  forward  to 
the  consequences  of  their  actions  in  another  world  ; 
which  can  only  be  brought  about  by  the  parents 
visibly  acting  with  a  view  to  these  consequences  them- 
selves. P:irents,  to  do  them  justice,  are  seldom  spar- 
ing in  lessons  of  virtue  and  religion  ;  in  admonitions 
which  cost  little,  and  v/hich  profit  less  ;  whilst  their 
example  exhibits  a  continual  contradiction  of  what 
they  teach.  A  father,  for  instance,  will,  with  much 
solemnity  and  apparent  earnestness,  warn  his  son 
against  idleness,  excess  in  drinking,  debauchery,  and 
extravagance,  who  himself  loiters  about  all  day  with- 
out employment  ;  comes  home  every  night  drunk ; 
is  made  infamous  in  his  neighbourhood  by  some  prof- 
ligate connexion  ;  and  wastes  the  fortune  which 
should  support  or  remain  a  provision  for  his  family 
in  riot,  or  luxury,  or  ostentation.  Or  he  will  dis- 
course gravely  before  his  children  of  the  obligation 
and  importance  of  revealed  religion,  whilst  they  see 
the  most  frivolous  and  oftentimes  feigned  excuses 
detain  him  from  its  reasonable  and  solemn  ordinances. 
Of  he  will  set  before  them,  perhaps,  the  supreme  and 
tremendous  authority  of  Almighty  God  ;  that  such 
a  being  ought  not  to  be  named,  or  even  thought  up- 
on, without  sentiments  of  profound  awe  and  venera- 
tion. This  may  be  the  lecture  he  dehvers  to  his  fam- 
ily one  hour  ;  when  the  next,  if  an  occasion  arise  to 
excite  his  anger,  his  mirth,  or  his  surprise,  they  will 
hear  him  treat  the  name  of  the  Deity  with  the  most 
irreverent  profanation,  and  sport  with  the  terms  and 
denunciations  of  the  Christian  religion,  as  if  they 
were  the  language  of  some  ridiculous  and  long  ex- 


23G  Duty  of  Parents . 

ploded  superstition.  Now,  even  a  child  is  not  to  be 
imposed  upon  by  such  mockery.  He  sees  through 
the  grimace  of  this  counterfeited  concern  for  virtue. 
He  discovers  that  his  parent  is  acting  a  part ;  and 
receives  his  admonitions  as  he  would  hear  the  same 
maxims  from  the  mouth  of  a  player.  And  when 
once  this  opinion  has  taken  possession  of  the  child's 
mind,  it  has  a  fatal  effect  upon  the  parent's  influ- 
ence in  all  subjects  ;  even  in  those,  in  which  he  him- 
self may  be  sincere  and  convinced.  Whereas  a  si- 
lent, but  observable  regard  to  the  duties  of  religion, 
in  the  parent's  own  behaviour,  will  take  a  sure  and 
gradual  hold  of  the  child's  disposition,  much  beyond 
formal  reproofs  and  chidings,  which,  being  gener- 
ally prompted  by  some  present  provocation,  discov- 
er more  of  anger  than  of  principle,  and  are  always 
received  with  a  temporary  alienation  and  disgust. 

A  good  parent's  first  care  is  to  be  virtuous  him- 
self ;  his  second,  to  make  his  virtues  as  easy  and  en- 
gaging to  those  about  him,  as  their  nature  will  ad- 
mit. Virtue  itself  offends,  when  coupled  with  for- 
bidding  manners.  And  some  virtues  may  be  urged 
to  such  excess,  or  brought  forward  so  unseasonably, 
as  to  discourage  and  repel  those,  who  observe  and 
who  are  acted  upon  by  them,  instead  of  exciting  an 
inclination  to  imitate  and  adopt  them.  Young 
njinds  are  particularly  liable  to  these  unfortunate 
impressions.  For  instance,  if  a  father's  economy  de- 
generate Into  a  minute  and  teasmg  parsimony,  it  is 
odds  but  that  the  son,  who  has  suffered  under  it,  set 
out  a  sworn  enemy  to  all  rules  of  order  and  frugal- 
ity. If  a  father's  piety  be  morose,  rigorous,  and 
tinged  with  melancholy,  perpetually  breaking  in  up- 
on the  recreation  of  his  family,  and  surfeiting  them 
with  the  language  of  religion  upon  ail  occasions, 
there  is  danger  lest  the  son  carry  from  home  with 
him  a  settled  prejudice  against  seriousness  and  relig- 
ion, as  inconsistent  with  every  plan  of  a  pleasurable 
life  ;  and  turn  out,  when  he  mixes  with  the  world, 
a  character  of  levity  or  dissoluteness. 


Rights  of  Pareniu  ^37 

Somethifig  likewise  may  be  done  towards  the  cor- 
recting or  improving  of  those  early  incHnations 
which  children  discover,  by  disposing  them  into  sit- 
uations the  least  dangerous  to  their  particular  char- 
acters. 1  hus,  I  would  make  choice  of  ^  retired  life 
for  young  persons  addicted  to  licentious  pleasures ; 
or  private  stations  for  the  proud  and  passionate  ;  of 
liberal  professions,  and  a  town  life,  for  the  mercinary 
and  sottish  :  and  not,  according  to  the  general  prac- 
tice of  parents,  send  dissolute  youths  into  the  army  ; 
penurious  tempers  to  trade  ;  or  make  a  crafty  lad 
an  attorney  ;  or  flatter  a  vain  and  haughty  temper 
with  elevated  names,  or  situations,  or  callings,  to 
which  the  fashion  of  the  world  has  annexed  prece- 
dency and  distinction,  but  in  which  his  disposition, 
without  at  all  promoting  his  success,  will  serve  both 
to  multiply  and  exasperate  his  disappointments.  In 
the  same  v/ay,  that  is,  with  a  view  to  the  particular 
frame  and  tendency  of  the  pupil's  character,  I  would 
make  choice  of  a  public  or  private  education.  The 
reserved,  timid,  and  indolent,  will  have  their  facul- 
ties called  forth  and  their  nerves  invigorated  by  a 
public  education.  Youths  of  strong  spirits  and  pas- 
sions will  be  safer  in  a  private  education.  At  our 
public  schools,  as  fas  as  I  have  observed,  more  litera- 
ture is  acquired,  and  more  vice  :  quick  parts  are  cul- 
tivated, slow  ones  are  neglected.  Under  private  tu- 
ition, a  moderate  proficiency  in  juvenile  learning  is 
seldom  exceeded,  but  with  more  certainty  attained. 

CHAPTER    X. 
THE  RIGHTS  OF  PARENTS. 

1  HE  Rights  of  Parents  result  from  their  du- 
^es.  If  it  be  the  duty  of  a  parent  to  educate  his 
children,  to  form  them  for  a  life  of  usefulness  and 
virtue,  to  provide  for  them  situations  needful  for 
their  subsistence  and  suited  to  their  circumstances, 
and  to  prepare  them  for  those  situations ;  he  has  a 


238  Rights  of  Parents, 

right  to  such  authority,  and  in  support*  of  that  au^ 
thority  to  exercise  such  discipline,  as  may  be  necessa- 
ry for  these  purposes.  The  law  of  nature  acknowl- 
edges no  other  foundation  of  a  parent's  right  over 
his  children,  beside  his  duty  towards  them  (I  speak 
now  of  such  rights  as  may  be  enforced  by  coercion.) 
This  relation  confers  no  property  in  their  persons,  or 
natural  dominion  over  them,  as  is  commonly  supposed. 

Since  it  is,  in  general,  necessary  to  determine  the 
destination  of  children,  before  they  are  capable  of 
judging  of  their  own  happiness,  parents  have  a  right 
to  elect  professions  for  them. 

As  the  mother  herself  owes  obedience  to  the  father, 
her  authority  must  submit  to  his.  In  a  competition, 
therefore,  of  commands,  the  father  is  to  be  obeyed. 
In  case  of  the  death  of  either,  the  authority,  as  well 
as  duty,  of  both  parents  devolves  upon  the  survivor. 

These  rights,  always  following  the  duty,  belong 
likewise  to  guardians ;  and  so  much  of  them,  as  is 
delegated  by  the  parents  or  guardians,  belongs  to  tu- 
tors, schoolmasters,  &;c. 

From  this  principle,  "  that  the  rights  of  parents 
result  from  their  duty,"  it  follows,  that  parents  have 
no  natural  right  over  the  lives  of  their  children,  as 
•was  absurdly  allowed  to  Roman  fathers ;  nor  any  to 
exercise  unprofitable  severities  ;  nor  to  command  the 
commission  of  crimes  ;  for  these  rights  can  never  be 
wanted  for  the  purposes  of  a  parent's  duty. 

Nor,  for  the  same  reason,  have  parents  any  right 
to  sell  their  children  into  slavery.  Upon  which,  by 
the  way,  we  may  observe,  that  the  children  of  slaves 
are  not,  by  the  law  of  nature,  born  slaves ;  for,  as 
the  master's  right  is  derived  to  him  through  the  pa- 
rent, it  can  never  be  greater  than  the  parent's  own. 

Hence  also  it  appears,  that  parents  not  only  pervert, 
but  exceed  their  just  authority,  when  they  consult 
their  own  ambition,  interest,  or  prejudice,  at  the 
manifest  expense  of  their  children's  happiness.  Of 
which  abuse  of  parental  power,  the  following  are  in- 
stances ;  the   shutting  up    of  dauohters  and  younger 


Duty  of  Children.  236 

sons  in  nuneries  and  monasteries,  in  order  to  pre- 
serve entire  the  estate  and  dignity  of  the  family  ;  or 
the  u.sing  of  any  arts,  either  of  kindness  or  unkind- 
ness.,  to  induce  them  to  make  choice  of  this  way  of 
life  themselves  ;  or,  in  countries  where  the  clergy 
are  prohibited  from  marriage,  putting  sons  into  the 
church  for  the  same  end,  who  are  never  likely  either 
to  door  receive  any  good  in  it,  sufficient  to  compen* 
sate  for  this  sacrifice  ;  the  urging  of  children  to  mar- 
riages from  which  they  are  averse,  with  the  view  of 
exalting  or  enriching  the  family,  or  for  the  sake  of 
connecting  estates,  parties,  or  interests  ;  or  the  op- 
posing of  a  marriage,  in  which  the  child  would  prob- 
ably find  his  happiness,  from  a  motive  of  pride  or  av- 
arice, of  family  hostility,  or  personal  pique. 


CHAPTER  XI. 
THE  DUTY  OF  CHILDREN. 

1  HE  duty  of  Children  may  be  considered, 
I.     During  childhood-     11.    After  they  have  attain- 
ed to  manhood,  but  continue  in  their  father's  family. 
III.     After  they  have  attained  to  manhood,  and  have 
left  their  father's  family. 

I.  During  Childhood. 

Children  must  be  supposed  to  have  attained  to  some 
degree  of  discretion  before  they  are  capable  of  any 
duty.  There  is  an  interval  of  eight  or  nine  years, 
between  the  dawning  and  the  maturity  of  reason,  in 
which  it  is  necessary  to  subject  the  inclination  of 
children  to  many  restraints,  and  direct  their  applica- 
tion to  many  employments,  of  the  tendency  and 
use  of  which  they  cannot  judge  ;  for  which  cause, 
the  submission  of  children  during  this  period  must 
be  ready  and  implicit,  with  an  exception,  however,  of 
any  manifest  crime,  which  may  be  commanded  them, 

II.  /Ifter  they  have  attained  lo  manhood^  but  continm 
'•V.  their  fa ih-rr^ ^,  family.  ^" 

G   a 


340  Duiy  of  Children. 

If  children,  when  they  are  grown  up,  voluntarily 
continue  members  of  their  father's  family,  they  are 
bound,  beside  the  general  duty  of  gratitude  to  their 
parents,  to  ob'erve  such  regulations  of  the  family  as 
the  father  shall  appoint  ;  contribute  their  labour  to 
its  support,  if  required  ;  and  confine  themselves  to 
such  expenses  as  he  siiall  allow.  The  obligation 
would  be  the  same,  if  they  were  admitted  into  any 
other  family,  or  received  support  from  any  other  hand. 

ill.  After  they  have  attained  to  ?iiaii}3ood,  and  have 
left  their  father' s  famil J . 

In  this  state  of  the  relation,  the  duty  to  parents  is 
simply  the  duty  of  gratitude  ;  not  different  iyi  kind, 
from  that  which  we  owe  to  any  other  benefactor  ; 
in  degree^  just  so  much  exceeding  other  obligations, 
by  how  much  a  parent  has  been  a  greater  benefactor 
than  any  other  friend.  The  services  and  attentions, 
by  which  filial  gratitude  may  be*  testified,  can  be 
comprised  within  no  enumeration.  It  will  shew  it- 
self in  compliances  with  the  will  of  the  parents, 
however  contrary  to  the  child's  own  taste  or  judg- 
ment, provided  it  be  neither  criminal,  nor  totally  in- 
consistent with  his  happiness  ;  in  a  constant  endeav- 
our to  promote  their  enjoyments,  prevent  their  wish- 
es, and  soften  their  anxieties,  in  small  matters  as  well 
as  in  great  \  in  assisting  them  in  their  business  ;  in 
contributing  to  their  support,  ease,  or  better  accom- 
modation, when  their  circumstances  require  it ;  in  af- 
fording them  our  company,  in  preference  to  more 
amusing  engagements ;  in  waiting  upon  their  sick- 
ness or  decrepitude  ;  in  bearing  with  the  infirmities 
of  their  health  or  temper,  with  the  peevishness  and 
complaints,  the  unfashionable,  negligent,  austere  man- 
ners, and  offensive  habit;^,  which  often  attend  upon 
advanced  years  :  for  where  must  old  age  find  indul- 
gence, if  it  do  not  meet  vvirh  it  in  the  piety  and  par- 
tiality of  children  ? 

The  most  serious  contentions  between  parents  and 
their  children,  are  those  conwnonly  which  relate  to 
marriage,  or  to  the  choice  of  a  profession. 


Duty  of  Childre72.  241 

A  parent  has,  in  no  case,  a  right  to  destroy  his 
child's  happiness.  If  it  be  true,  therefore,  that  there 
exist  such  personal  and  exclusive  attachments  between 
•individuals  of  different  sexes,  that  the  possession  of  a 
particular  man  or  woman  in  marriage  be  really  nec- 
essary for  the  child's  happiness  ;  or  if  it  be  true,  that 
•an  aversion  to  a  particular  profession  may  be  involun- 
tary an.d  unconquerable ;  then  it  will  follow,  that  pa- 
rents, where  this  is  the  case,  ought  not  to  urge  their 
•authority,  and  that  the  child  is  not  bound  to  obey  it. 

The  point  is,  to  discover  how  far,  in  any  particu- 
lar instance,  this  is  the  case.  Whether  the  fondness 
of  lovers  ever  continues  with  such  intensity,  and  so 
long,  that  the  success  of  their  desires  constitutes,  or 
the  disappointment  affects,  any  considerable  portion 
of  their  happiness,  compared  with  that  of  their  whole 
life,  it  is  difficult  to  determine  ;  but  there  can  be  no 
difficulty  in  pronouncing,  that  not  one  half  of  those 
attachments  which  young  people  conceive  with  so 
much  haste  and  passion,  are  of  this  sort.  I  believe 
it  also  to  be  true,  that  there  are  few  aversions  to  a 
profession,  which  resolution,  perseverence,  activity 
in  going  about  the  duty  of  it,  and  above  all,  despair 
of  changing,  will  not  subdue  :  yet  there  are  some 
such.  "Wherefore,  a  child  who  respects  his  parents* 
judgment,  and  is,  as  he  ought  to  be,  tender  of  their 
happiness,  owes,  at  least,  so  much  deference  to  their 
will,  as  to  try  fairly  and  faithfully,  in  one  case,  wheth- 
er time  and  absence  will  not  cool  an  affection  which 
they  disapprove  ;  and,  in  the  other,  whether  a  long- 
er continuance  in  the  profession  which  they  have 
chosen  for  him,  may  not  reconcile  him  to  it.  The 
whole  depends  upon  the  experiment  being  made  on 
the  child's  part  with  sincerity,  and  not  merely  with 
a  design  of  compassing  his  purpose  at  last,  by  means 
of  a  simulated  and  temporary  compliance.  It  is  the 
nature  of  love  and  hatred,  and  of  all  violent  affections, 
to  delude  the  mind  with  a  persuasion,  that  we  shall 
always  continue  to  feel  them,  as  we  feel  them  at 
present :    we   cannot  conceive  that  they  will  either 


t2.4ii  Duty  of  Children, 

change  or  cease.  Experience  of  similar  or  greater 
changes  in  ourselves,  or  a  habit  of  giving  credit  to 
what  our  parents,  or  tutors,  or  books  teach  us,  may 
control  this  persuasion  :  otherwise  it  renders  youth 
very  untractable ;  for  they  see  clearly  and  truly  that 
it  is  impossible  they  should  be  happy  under  the  cir- 
cumstances proposed  to  them,  in  their  present  state 
of  mind.  After  a  sincere  but  ineffectual  endeavour, 
by  the  child,  to  accomodate  his  inclination  to  his  pa- 
rent's pleasure,  he  ought  not  to  suffer  in  his  parent's 
affection,  or  in  his  fortunes.  The  parent,  when  he 
has  reasonable  proof  of  this,  should  acquiesce  :  at  all 
events,  the  child  is  theji  at  liberty  to  provide  for  his 
own  happiness. 

Parents  have  no  right  to  urge  their  children  upon 
marriages  to  which  they  are  averse ;  nor  ought,  in 
any  shape,  to  resent  the  children's  disobedience  to 
such  commands.  This  is  a  different  case  from  oppos- 
ing a  match  of  incHnation,  because  the  child's  mis- 
ery is  a  much  more  probable  consequence  ;  it  being 
easier  to  live  without  a  person  that  we  love,  than 
with  one  whom  we  Jiate,  Add  to  this,  that  compul- 
sion in  marriage  necessarily  leads  to  prevarications  ; 
as  the  ruluctant  party  promises  an  affection,  which 
neither  exists,  nor  is  expected  to  take  place  ;  and 
parental,  like  all  human  authority,  ceases  at  the 
point  where  obedience  becomes  criminal. 

In  the  abovementioned,  and  in  all  contests  be- 
tween parents  and  children,  it  is  the  parent's  duty 
to  represent  to  the  child  the  consequences  of  his 
conduct ;  and  it  will  be  found  his  best  policy  to  rep- 
resent them  with  fidelity.  It  is  usual  for  parents  to 
exaggerate  these  descriptions  beyond  probability, 
and  by  exaggeration  to  lose  all  credit  with  their 
children  ;  thus,  in  a  great  measure,  defeating  their 
own  end. 

Parents  are  forbidden  to  interfere,  where  a  trust 
Is  reposed  personally  in  the  son  ;  and  where,  conse- 
quently, the  son  was  expected,  and  by  virtue  of  that 
ejcpectation  is  obliged,  to  pursue  his  own  judgment, 


Duty  of  Children.  245 

and  not  that  of  any  other  :  as  is  the  case  with  judi- 
cial magistrates  in  the  execution  of  their  oflice  ; 
with  members  of  the  legislature  in  their  •  votes ; 
with  electors,  v»/here  preference  is  to  be  given  to 
certain  prescribed  qualifications.  The  son  may  assist 
his  own  judgment  by  the  advice  of  his  father,  or  oi 
any  one  whom  he  chooses  to  consult :  but  his  own 
judgment,  whether  it  proceed  upon  knowledge  or 
authority,  ought  finally  to  determine  his  conduct. 

The  duty  of  children  to  their  parents  was  thought 
w^orthy  to  be  made  the  subject  of  one  of  the  ten 
commandments ;  and,  as  such,  is  recognized  by 
Christ,  together  with  the  rest  of  the  moral  precepts 
of  the  decalogue,  in  various  places  of  the  gospel. 

The  same  Divine  Teacher's  sentiments  concerning 
the  relief  of  indigent  parents,  appear  sufficiently  from 
that  manly  and  deserved  indignation,  with  which 
he  reprehended  the  wretched  casuistry  of  the  Jezuish 
expositors,  who,  under  the  name  of  a  tradition,  had 
contrived  a  method  of  evading  this  duty,  by  con- 
verting, or  pretending  to  convert,  to  the  treasury 
of  the  temple,  so  much  of  their  property,  as  their 
distressed  parent  might  be  entitled  by  their  law  to 
demand. 

Agreeably  to  this  law  of  nature  and  Christianity, 
children  are,  by  the  law  o^  England,  bound  to  support 
as  well  their  immediate  parents,  as  their  granfather 
and  grandmother,  or  remote  ancestors,  who  stand 
in  need  of  support. 

Obedience  to  parents  is  enjoined  by  St.  Paul  to  the 
Ephesians :  "  Children,  obey  your  parents  in  the 
Lord,  for  this  is  right  ;'*  and  to  the  Colossians : 
"  Cliildren,  obey  your  parents  in  all  things,  for  this 
is  well  pleasing  unto  the  Lord."* 

By  the  Jewish  law,  disobedience  to  parents  was  in 
seme  extreme  cases  capital.     Deut.  xxi.  18. 

*  Upon  which  two  phrases,  "this  is  right,"  and  "  for  this  is  well  pleasing 
unto  the  Lord,''  being  used  by  St.  Pauliu  a  sense  perfectly  parallel,  we  may 
observe,  that  moral  rectitude  and  conformity  to  the  divine  will,  were,  in 
his  apprehension,  t!ie  same. 


BOOK  IV. 

Duties  to  Ourselves, 


1  HIS  division  of  the  subject  is  retained  mere- 
ly for  the  sake  of  method,  by  which  the  writer  and 
the  reader  are  equally  assisted.  To  the  subject  itself 
it  imports  nothing  ;  for  the  obligation  of  all  duties 
being  fundamentally  the  same,  it  matters  Uttle  under 
what  class  or  title  any  of  them  are  considered.  In 
strictness,  there  are  few  duties  or  crimes,  which  ter- 
minate in  a  man's  self;  and,  so  far  as  others  are  af- 
fected by  their  operation,  they  have  been  treated  of 
in  some  article  of  the  preceding  book.  We  have 
reserved,  however,  to  this  head,  the  rights  of  self- de- 
fence  ;  also  the  consideration  of  drunkenness  and  sui- 
cide,  as  offences  against  that  care  of  our  faculties,  and 
preservation  of  our  person,  which  we  account  duties^ 
and  call  Duties  to  Ourselves. 


CHAPTER   I. 
THE  RIGHTS  OF  SELF-DEFENCE. 

IT  has  been  asserted,  that  in  a  state  of  nature 
we  might  lawfully  defend  the  most  insignificant 
rigtrt,  provided  it  were  a  perfect,  determinate  right, 
by  any  extremities  which  the  obstinacy  of  the  aggres- 
sor rendered  necessary.  Of  this  I  doubt ;  because  I 
doubt  whether  the  general  rule  be  worth  sustaining 
at  such  an  expense,  and  because,  apart  from  the  gen- 
eral consequence  of  yielding   to  the  attempt,  it  can- 


Rights  of  Self-Defence.  245 

not  be  contended  to  be  for  the  augmentation  of  hu- 
man happiness,  that  one  man  should  lose  his  hfe  or  a 
limb,  rather  than  another  a  pennyworth  of  his  prop- 
erty. Nevertheless,  perfect  rights  can  only  be  dis- 
tinguished by  their  value  ;  and  it  is  impossible  to  as- 
certain the  value,  at  which  the  liberty  of  using  ex- 
treme violence  begins.  The  person  attacked  must 
balance,  as  well  as  he  can,  between  the  general  con- 
sequence of  yielding,  and  the  particular  effect  of  re- 
sistance. 

However,  this  right,  if  it  exist  in  a  state  of  nature^ 
is  suspended  by  the  establishment  of  civil  society  ; 
because  thereby  other  remedies  are  provided  against 
attacks  upon  our  property,  and  because  it  is  necessa- 
ry to  the  peace  and  safety  of  the  community,  that 
the  prevention,  punishment,  and  redress  of  injuries 
be  adjusted  by  public  laws.  Moreover,  as  the  indi- 
vidual is  assisted  in  the  recovery  of  his  right,  or  of  a 
compensation  for  his  right,  by  the  public  strength, 
it  is  no  less  equitable  than  expedient,  that  he  should 
submit  to  public  arbitration,  the  kind  as  well  as  th€ 
measure  of  the  satisfaction  which  he  is  to  obtain. 

There  is  one  case  in  which  all  extremities  are  jus- 
tifiable, namely,  when  our  life  is  assaulted,  and  it  be-' 
comes  necessary  for  our  preservation  to  kill  the  as- 
sailant. This  is  evident  in  a  state  of  nature  ;  unless 
it  can  be  shown,  that  we  are  bound  to  prefer  the  ag- 
gressor's life  to  our  own,  that  is  to  say,  to  love  our 
enemy  better  than  ourselves,  which  can  never  be  j, 
debt  ot  justice,  nor  any  where  appears  to  be  ii  duly 
of  charity.  Nor  is  the  case  altered  by  our  living  in 
civil  society  ;  because,  by  the  supposition,  the  laws 
of  society  cannot  interpose  to  protect  us,  nor  by  the 
nature  of  the  case  compel  restitution.  This  liberty 
is  restrained  to  cases,  in  which  no  other  probable 
means  of  preserving  our  life  remain,  as  flight,  call- 
ing for  assistance,  disarming  the  adversary,  &c.  The 
rule  holds,  whethtr  the  danger  proceed  from  a  vol- 
untary attack,  as  by  an    enemy,  robber,  or  assassin  ; 


24G  Rights  of  Self-Defence. 

or  from  an  involuntary  one,  as  by  a  madman,  or 
person  sinking  in  the  water  and  dragging  us  after 
him ;  or  where  two  persons  are  reduced  to  a  situa- 
tion, in  which  one  or  both  of  them  must  perish  ;  as 
In  a  shipwreck,  where  two  seize  upon  a  plank,  which 
will  support  only  one:  although,  to  say  thetruth, 
these  extreme  cases,  which  happen  seldom,  and  hard- 
ly, when  they  do  happen,  admit  of  moral  agency, 
are  scarcely  worth  mentioning,  much  less  discussing 
at  length. 

The  instance,  which  approaches  'the  nearest  to  the 
preservation  of  life,  and  which  seems  to  justify  the 
same  extremities,  is  the  defence  of  chastity. 

In  all  other  cases,  it  appears  to  me  the  safest  to 
consider  the  taking  away  of  life  as  authorized  by  the 
law  of  the  land  ;  and  the  person  v/ho  takes  it  away, 
as  in  the  situation  of  a  minister  or  executioner  of 
the  law. 

In  which  view  homicide,  in  England^  is  justifiable, 

1.  To  prevent  the  commission  of  a  crime,  which, 
when  committed,  would  be  punishable  with  death. 
Thus  it  is  lawful  to  shoot  a  highwayman,  or  one  at- 
tempting to  break  into  a  house  by  night ;  but  not 
so  if  the  attempt  be  made  in  the  day-time  ;  which 
pnrticular  distinction,  by  a  qonsent  of  legislation  that 
is  remarkable,  obtained  also  in  the  Jewish  law,  as 
well  as  in  the  laws  both  of  Greece  and  Rome. 

2.  In  necessary  endeavors  to  carry  the  lav/  into 
execution,  as  in.  suppressing  riots,  apprehending  male- 
factors, preventing  escapes,  &c. 

I  do  not  know  that  the  law  holds  forth  iV>  author- 
ity to  any  cases  beside  those  which  fall  within  one 
or  other  of  the  above  descriptions  ;  or  that,  after 
the  exception  of  Immediate  danger  to  life  or  chasti- 
ty, the  destruction  of  a  human  being  can  be  inno- 
cent without  that  authority. 

The  rights  of  war  are  not  here  taken  into  the 
account. 


Drunkenness,  247 

CHAPTER    II. 

DRUNKENNESS. 

Drunkenness  is  either  actual  or  habitual ; 
just  as  it  is  one  thing  to  be  drunk,  and  another  to 
be  a  drunkard.  What  we  shall  deliver  upon  the  sub- 
ject, must  principally  be  understood  of  a  habit  of  in- 
temperance ;  although  part  of  the  guilt  and  danger 
described  may  be  applicable  to  casual  excesses  ;  and 
all  oHt,  in  a  certain  degree,  forasmuch  as  every  hab- 
it is  only  a  repetition  of  single  instances. 

The  mischief  of  drunkenness,  from  which  we  are 
to  compute  the  guilt  of  it,  consists  in  the  following 
bad  effects  : 

1.  It  betrays  most  constitutions  either  into  extrav- 
agances of  anger,  or  sins  of  lewdness. 

2.  It  disqualifies  men  for  the  duties  of  their  station, 
both  by  the  temporary  disorder  of  their  faculties,  and 
at  length  by  a  constant  incapacity  and  stupefaction. 

3.  It  is  attended  with  expenses,  which  can  often 
be  ill  spared. 

4.  It  is  sure  to  occasion  uneasiness  to  the  family 
of  the  drunkard. 

5.  It  shortens  life.         , 

To  these  consequences  of  drunkenness  must  be  ad° 
ded  the  peculiar  danger  and  mischief  of  the  example. 
Drunkenness  is  a  social  festive  vice  ;  apt,  beyond  any 
vice  that  can  be  mentioned,  to  draw  in  others  by  the 
example.  The  drinker  collects  his  circle  j  the  circle 
naturally  spreads  ;  of  those  who  are  drawn  within  it, 
many  become  the  corrupters  and  centres  of  sets  and 
circles  of  their  own  5  every  one  countenancing,  and, 
perhaps,  emulating  the  rest,  till  a  whole  neighbour- 
hood be  infected  from  the  contagion  of  a  single  exam- 
ple. This  account  is  confirmed  by  what  we  often  ob- 
serve of  drunkenness,  that  it  is  a  local  vice  ;  found  to 
prevail  in  certain  countries,  in  certain  districts  of  a 
country,  or  in  particular  towns,  without  any  reason 

H    H 


^'8  iDrimkenness. 

to  be  given  for  the  fashion,  but  that  it  had  been  intro- 
duced by  some  popular  examples.  With  this  observa- 
tion upon  the  spreading  quality  of  drunkenness,  let  us 
connect  a  remark  which  belongs  to  the  several  evil  ef- 
fects above  recited.  The  consequences  of  a  vice,  like 
the  symptoms  of  a  disease,  though  they  be  all  enume- 
rated in  the  discription,  seldom  all  meet  in  the  same 
subject.  In  the  instance  under  consideration,  the  age 
and  temperature  of  one  drunkard  may  have  little  to 
fear  from  inflammations  of  lust  or  anger  ;  the  fortune 
of  a  second  may  not  be  injured  by  the  expense ;  a  third 
may  have  no  family  to  be  disquieted  by  his  irregu- 
larities ;  and  a  fourth  may  possess  a  constitution  for- 
tified against  the  poison  of  strong  liquors.  But  if, 
as  we  always  ought  to  do,  we  comprehend  within 
the  consequences  of  our  conduct  the  mischief  and 
tendency  of  the  example,  the  .  above  circumstances, 
however  fortunate  for  the  individual,  will  be  found 
to  vary  the  guilt  of  his  intemperance,  less,  probably, 
than  he  supposes.  The  moralist  may  expostulate 
with  him  thus  :  Although  the  waste  of  time  and 
money  be  of  small  importance  to  you,  it  may  be  of  the 
utmost  to  some  one  or  other  whom  your  society  cor- 
rupts. Repeated,  or  long  continued  excesses,  which 
hurt  noi  your  health,  may  be  fatal  to  your  companion. 
Although  you  have  neither  wife,  nor  child,  nor  pa- 
rent, to  lament  your  absence  from  home,  or  expect 
your  return  to  it  with  terror  ;  other  families,  in 
which  husbands  and  fathers  have  been  invited  to 
share  in  your  ebriety,  or  encouraged  to  imitate  it, 
may  justly  lay  their  misery  or  ruin  at  your  doon 
This  will  hold  g'^od,  whether  the  person  seduced, 
be  seduced  immediately  by  you,,  or  the  vice  be  prop- 
agated from  you  to  him.,  through  several  intermedi- 
ate examples.  All  these  considerations  it  is  necessa- 
ry to  assemble,  to  judge  truly  of  a  vice,  which  usual» 
ly  meets  with  milder  names,  and  more  mdulgence 
than  it  deserves. 

I  omit  those  outrages  upon  one  another,  and  upon 
the  peace  and  safety  of  the  neighbourhood,  in  which 


Drunkenness.  249 

drunken  revels  often  end  ;  and  also  those  deleteri- 
ous and  maniacal  effects,  which  strong  liquors  pro- 
duce upon  particular  constitutions  ;  because,  in  gen- 
eral propositions  concerning  drunkenness,  no  conse- 
quences should  be  in-cluded,  but  what  are  constant 
enough  to  be  generally  expected. 

Drunkenness  is  repeatedly  forbidden  by  St.  Paul  : 
"  Be  not  drunk  with  wine,  wherein  is  excess.*' 
"  Let  us  walk  honestly  as  in  the  day,  not  in  rioting 
and  drunkenness."  "  Be  not  deceived  :  neither 
fornicators — nor  cirmikards,  nor  revilers,  nor  extor- 
tioners, shall  inherit  the  kingdom  of  God,"  Epb.  v. 
IH.Rom.xili.  IS,  1  Cor.  vi.  9,  10.  The  same  Apostle 
likewise  condemns  drunkenness,  as  peculiarly  incon- 
sistent with  the  Christian  profession  :  "  They  that  be 
drunken,  are  drunken  in  the  night  ;  but  let  us,  who 
are  of  the  day,  be  sober."  1  Tbes.  v.  7,  8.  We  are  not 
concerned  with  the  argument  ;  the  words  amount 
to  a  prohibition  of  drunkenness  ;  and  the  authority 
is  conclusive. 

It  is  a  question  of  some  importance,  how  far  drunk- 
enness is  an  excuse  for  the  crimes  which  the  drunk- 
en person  eommitG. 

In  the  solution  of  this  question,  we  will  first  sup- 
pose the  drunken  person  to  be  altogether  deprived  of 
moral  agency,  that  is  to  say,  of  all  r^^flection  and  fore- 
sight. In  this  condition,  it  is  evident,  that  he  is  no 
more  capable  of  guilt  than  a  madman  ;  although, 
like  him,  he  may  be  extremely  mischievous.  The 
only  guilt,  with  which  he  is  chargeable,  was  incurred 
at  the  time  when  be  voluntarily  brought  himself  in- 
to this  situation.  And  as  every  man  is  responsible 
for  the  consequences  which  he  foresaw,  or  might 
have  foreseen,  and  for  no  other,  this  guilt  will  be  in 
proportion  to  the  probability  of  such  consequences 
ensuing.  From  which  principle  results  the  following 
rule,  viz.  that  the  guilt  of  any  action  in  a  drunken 
man  bears  the  same  proportion  to  the  guilt  of  the 
like  action  in  a  sober  man,  that  the  probability  of 
its  being  the  consequence  of  drunkenness  bears  to  ah-. 


250  Drunkenness, 

solute  certainty.  By  virtue  of  this  rule,  those  vices, 
which  are  the  known  effect  of  drunkenness,  either 
in  general,  or  upon  particular  constitutions,  are,  in 
all,  or  in  men  of  such  constitutions,  nearly  as  crimi- 
nal, as  if  committed  with  all  their  faculties  and 
senses  about  them. 

If  the  privation  of  reason  be  only  partial,  the  guilt 
will  be  of  a  mixt  nature.  For  so  much  of  his  self- 
government  as  the  drunkard  retains,  he  is  as  responsi- 
ble then,  as  at  any  other  time.  He  is  entitled  to  no 
abatement,  beyond  the  strict  proportion  in  which 
his  moral  faculties  are  impaired.  Now  I  call  the 
guilt  of  the  crime,  if  a  sober  man  had  committed  it, 
the  whole  guilt.  A  person  in  the  condition  we  de- 
scribe, incurs  part  of  this  at  the  instant  of  perpetra- 
tion ;  and  by  bringing  himself  into  such  a  condition, 
incurred  that  fraction  of  the  remaining  part,  which 
the  danger  of  this  consequence  was  of  an  integral 
certainty.  For  the  sake  of  illustration,  we  are  at  lib- 
erty to  suppose,  that  a  man  loses  half  his  moral  facul. 
ties  by  drunkenness  :  this  leaving  him  but  half  his 
responsibility,  he  incurs,  when  he  commits  the  action, 
half  of  the  whole  guilt.  We  will  also  suppose  that 
it  was  known  beforehand,  that  it  was  an  even  chance, 
ox  half  a  certainty,  that  this  crime  would  follow  his 
getting  drunk.  This  makes  him  chargeable  with 
half  of  the  remainder ;  so  that  altogether,  he  is  re- 
sponsible in  three  fourths  of  the  guilt,  which  a  sober 
man  would  have  incurred  by  the  same  action. 

I  do  not  mean  that  any  real  case  can  be  reduced  to 
numbers,  or  the  calculation  be  ever  made  with  arith- 
metical precision  :  but  these  are  the  principles,  and 
this  the  rule,  by  which  our  general  admeasurement 
of  the  guilt  of  such  offences  should  be  regulated. 

The  appetite  for  intoxicating  liquors  appears  to  me 
to  be  almost  always  acquired.  One  proof  of  which  is^ 
that  it  is  apt  to  return  only  at  particular  times  and 
places  J  as  after  dinner,  in  the  evening,  on  the  mar- 
ket day,  at  the  market  town,  in  such  a  company,  at 


Drunkenness,  251 

such  a  tavern.  And  this  may  be  the  reason,  that  if 
a  habit  of  drunkenness  be  ever  overcome,  it  is  upon 
some  change  of  place,  situation,  company,  or  profes- 
sion. A  man  sunk  deep  in  a  habit  of  drunkenness, 
will  upon  such  occasions  as  these,  when  he  finds  him- 
self  loosened  from  the  associations  which  held  him 
fast,  sometimes  make  a  plunge,  and  get  out.  In  a 
matter  of  so  great  importance,  it  is  well  worth  while, 
where  it  is  in  any  degree  practicable,  to  change  our 
habitation  and  society, for  the  sake  of  the  experiment. 
Habits  of  drunkenness  commonly  take  their  rise 
either  from  a  fondness  for  and  connexion  with  some 
company,  or  some  companion,  already  addicted  to 
this  practice  ;  which  affords  an  almost  irresistible  in- 
vitation to  take  a  share  in  the  indulgences,  which 
those  about  us  are  enjoying  with  so  much  apparent 
relish  and  delight :  or  from  want  of  regular  employ- 
ment, which  is  sure  to  let  in  many  superfluous  crav- 
ings  and  customs,  and  often  this  amongst  the  rest ;  or, 
lastly,  from  grief  or  fatigue,  both  which  strongly  so- 
licit that  relief  which  inebriating  liquors  administer, 
and  also  furnish  a  specious  excuse  for  complying 
with  the  inclination.  But  the  habit,  when  once  set 
in,  is  continued  by  different  motives  from  those  to 
which  it  owes  its  origin.  Persons  addicted  to  exces- 
sive drinking  suff'er,  in  the  intervals  of  sobriety,  and 
near  the  return  of  their  accustomed  indulgence,  a 
famtness  and  oppression  circa  prcecordia,  which  it  ex- 
ceeds the  ordinary  patience  of  human  nature  to  en- 
dure. This  is  usually  relived  for  a  short  time,  by  a 
repetition  of  the  same  excess  :  and  to  this  relief,  as 
to  the  removal  of  every  long  continued  pain,  they 
who  have  once  experienced  it,  are  urged  almost  be- 
yond the  power  of  resistance.  This  is  not  all  :  as  the 
liquor  loses  its  stimulus,  the  dose  must  be  increased,  to 
reach  the  same  pitch  of  elevation,  or  ease  ;  which  in- 
crease proportionably  accelerates  the  progress  of  all  the 
maladies  that  drunkenness  brings  on.  Whoever  re- 
flects upon  the  violence  of  the  craving  in  the  advanc- 
ed stages  of  ;he  habit,  and  the  fatal  termination  to 


252  Suiacie. 

which  the  gratification  of  it  leads,  will,  the  moment 
he  perceives  in  himself  the  first  symptoms  of  a  grow- 
ing inclination  to  intemperance,  collect  his  resolution 
to  this  point  ;  or  (what  perhaps  he  will  find  his  best 
security)  arm  himself  with  some  peremptory  rule,  as 
to  the  times  and  quantity  of  his  indulgences.  I  own 
myself  a  friend  to  the  laying  down  of  rules  to  our- 
selves of  this  sort,  and  rigidly  abiding  by  them. 
They  may  be  exclaimed  against  as  stiff,  but  they  are 
often  salutary.  Indefinite  resolutions  of  abstemious- 
ness are  apt  to  yield  to  extraordinary  occasions  ;  and 
extraordinary  occasions  to  occur  perpetually.  Where- 
as,  the  stricter  the  rule  is,  the  more  tenacious  we 
grow  of  it  ;  and  many  a  man  will  abstain  rather 
than  break  his  rule,  who  would  not  easily  be  brought 
to  exercise  the  same  mortification  from  higher  mo- 
tives. Not  to  mention,  that  when  our  rule  is  once 
known,  we  are  provided  with  an  answer  to  every 
importunity. 

There  is  a  difference  no  doubt,  between  convivial 
intemperance,  and  that  solitary  sottishness,  wliich 
waits  neither  for  company  nor  invitation.  But  the 
one,  I  am  afraid,  commonly  ends  in  the  other  :  and 
this  last  is  the  basest  degradation  to  which  the  facuU 
ties  and  dignity  of  human  nature  can  be  reduced. 


CHAPTER  III. 
,      SUICI    E. 

1  HEHE  is  no  subject  in  morality,  in  which 
the  consideration  o{  general  consequences  is  more  neces- 
sary than  in  th»s  of  suicide.  Particular  and  extreme 
cases  of  suicide  may  be  imagined,  and  may  arise,  of 
which  it  would  be  difficult  to  assign  the  particular 
mischief,  or  from  that  consideration  alone  to  demon- 
strate the  guilt.  And  these  cases  have  been  the 
chief  occasion  of  confusion  and  doubtfulness  in  the 
question.  Albeit  this  is  no  more,  than  what  is  some- 
times true  of  the  most  acknowledged  vice?,     I  could 


Suicide,  253 

propose  many  possible  cases,  even  of  murder,  which, 
if  they  were  detached  from  the  general  rule,  and 
governed  by  their  own  particular  consequences  alone, 
it  would  be  no  easy  undertaking  to  prove  criminal. 

The  true  question  in  the  argument  is  no  other 
than  this — May  every  man  who  chooses  to  destroy 
his  life,  innocently  do  so  ?  Limit,  and  distinguish  the 
subject  as  yo«  can,  it  will  come  at  last  to  this  question. 

For,  shall  we  say,  that  we  are  then  only  at  liberty 
to  commit  suicide,  when  we  find  our  continuance  in 
life  become  useless  to  mankind  ?  Any  one,  who 
pleases,  may  make  himself  useless  j  and  melancholy 
minds  are  prone  to  think  themselves  useless,  when  they 
really  are  not  so.  Suppose  a  law  were  promulged,  al- 
lowing each  private  person  to  destroy  every  man  he 
met,  whose  longer  continuance  in  the  world  he  judg- 
ed to  be  useless  ;  who  would  not  condemn  the  latitude 
of  such  a  rule?  Who  does  not  perceive  that  it  amounts 
to  a  permission  to  commit  murder  at  pleasure?  A  sim- 
ilar rule,  regulating  the  rights  over  our  own  lives, 
would  be  capable  of  the  same  extension.  Beside 
which,  no  one  is  useless  for  the  purpose  of  this  plea, 
but  he  v/ho  has  lost  every  capacity  and  opportunity 
of  being  useful,  together  with  the  possibility  of  recov- 
ering and  degree  of  either  :  which  is  a  state  of  such 
complete  destitution  and  despair,  as  connot,  I  believe, 
be  predicated  of  any  man  Uving. 

Or  rather,  shall  we  say,  that  to  depart  voluntarily 
out  of  life,  is  lawful  to  those  alone,  who  leave  none 
to  lament  their  death  ?  If  this  consideration  is  to  be 
taken  into  the  account  at  all,  the  subject  of  debate 
will  be,  not  whether  there  are  any  to  sorrow  for  us, 
but  whether  their  sorrow  for  our  death  will  exceed 
that  which  we  should  suffer  by  continuing  to  live. 
Now  this  is  a  comparison  of  things  so  indeterminate  in 
their  nature,  capable  of  so  different  a  judgment,  and 
concerning  v»-hich  the  judgment  will  differ  so  much, 
according  to  the  state  of  the  spirits,  or  the  pres- 
sure of  any  present  anxiety,  that  it  would  vary  little 
in  hypochondriacal  constitutions  from  an  unquaiifisd 


254  Suicide, 

licence  to  commit  suicide,  whenever  the  distresses 
which  men  felt  or  fancied,  rose  high  enough  to  over- 
come the  pain  and  dread  of  death.  Men  are  never 
tempted  to  destroy  themselves,  but  when  under  the  op- 
pression ot  some  grievous  uneasiness.  The  restrictions 
ofthe  rule,  therefore,  ought  to  apply  to  these  cases. 
But  what  effect  can  we  look  for  from  a  rule,  which 
proposes  to  weigh  our  own  pain  against  that  of  anoth- 
er ;  the  misery  that  is  felt,  against  that  which  is  on- 
ly conceived  ;  and  in  so  corrupt  a  balance  as  the  par- 
ty's own  distempered  imagination  ? 

In  like  manner,  whatever  other  rule  you  assign,  it 
will  ultimately  bring  us  to  an  indiscriminate  tolera- 
tion of  suicide,  in  all  cases  in  which  there  is  danger 
of  its  being  committed. 

It  remains,  therefore,  to  enquire  what  would  be 
the  effect  of  such  a  toleration — -evidently,  the  loss  of 
many  lives  to  the  community,  of  which  some  might 
be  useful  or  important ;  the  affliction  of  ?nany  families, 
and  the  consternation  of  all  ;  for  mankind  must  live 
in  continual  alarm  for  the  fate  of  their  friends  and 
dearest  relations,  when  the  restraints  of  religion  and 
morality  are  withdrawn  ;  when  every  disgust,  which 
is  powerful  enough  to  tempt  men  to  suicide,  shall  be 
deemed  sufficient  to  justify  it ;  and  when  the  follies 
and  vices,  as  well  as  the  inevitable  calamities  of  hu- 
man life,  so  often  make  existence  a  burthen. 

A  second  consideration,  and  perfectly  distinct  from 
the  former,  is  this.  By  continuing  in  the  world, 
and  in  the  exercise  of  those  virtues  which  remain 
within  our  power,  we  retain  the  opportunity  of 
meliorating  our  condition  in  a  future  state.  This  ar- 
gument, it  is  true,  does  not  in  strictness  prove  su- 
icide to  be  a  crime  ;  but  if  it  supply  a  motive  to  dis- 
suade us  from  committing  it,  it  amounts  to  much 
the  same  thing.  Now  there  is  no  condition  in  hu- 
man life  which  is  not  capable  of  some  virtue,  active 
or  passive.  Even  piety  and  resignation  under  the 
sufferings  to  which  we  are  called,  testify  a  trust  and 
acquiescence  in  the  divine  counsels,  more  acceptable. 


Suicide.  255 

perhaps,  than  this  most  prostrate  devotion  ;  afford  an 
edifying  example  to  all  who  observe  them,  and  may 
hope  for  a  recompense  among  the  most  arduous  of  hu- 
man virtues.  These  qualities  are  always  in  the  power 
of  the  miserable  ;  indeed  of  none  but  the  miserable. 

The  two  considerations  above  stated,  belong  to  all 
cases  of  suicide  whatever.  Beside  which  general  reasons, 
each  case  will  be  aggravated  by  its  own  proper  and  par- 
ticular consequences  ;  by  the  duties  that  are  deserted  ; 
by  the  claims  that  are  defrauded ;  by  the  loss,  affliction, 
or  disgrace,  which  our  death, or  the  manner  of  it,causes 
to  our  family,  kindred,  or  friends  ;  by  the  occasion  we 
give  to  many  to  suspect  the  sincerity  of  our  moral  and 
religious  professions,  and,  together  with  ours,  those  of 
all  others  ;  by  the  reproach  we  draw  upon  our  order, 
calling,  or  sect ;  in  a  word,  by  a  great  variety  of  evil 
consequences,  attending  upon  peculiar  situations,  with 
some  or  other  of  which  every  actual  case  of  suicide  is 
chargeable. 

I  refrain  from  the  common  topics  of"  deserting  our 
post,"  "  throwing  up  our  trust,'*  "  rushing  uncalled 
into  the  presence  of  our  Maker,'*  with  some  others  of 
the  same  sort,  not  because  they  are  common  (for  that 
rather  affords  a  presumption  in  their  favour)  but  be- 
cause I  do  not  perceive  in  them  much  argument  to 
which  an  answer  may  not  easily  be  given. 

Hitherto  we  have  pursued  upon  the  subject  the  light 
of  nature  alone,  taking  into  the  account,  however,  the 
expectation  of  a  future  existence,  without  which  our 
reasoning  upon  this,as  indeed  all  reasoning  upon  moral 
questionsjis  vain.  We  proceed  to  enquire,  whetherany 
thing  is  to  be  met  with  in  scripture  which  may  add  to 
the  probability  of  the  conclusions  we  have  been  endeav- 
ouringto  support.  And  here  I  acknowledge,  that  there 
is  to  be  found  neither  any  express  determination  of  the 
question,  nor  sufficient  evidence  to  prove,  that  the  case 
of  suicide  was  in  the  contemplation  of  the  law  which 
prohibited  murder.  Any  inference,  therefore,  which 
we  deduce  from  scripture,  can  be  sustained  onlyby  con- 
sstriirtion  and  implication  ;  that  is  to  sav,  although  thev- 


256  Suicide. 

who  were  authorized  to  instruct  mankind,  have  not 
decided  a  question,  which  never,  so  far  as  appears  to 
us,  came  before  them  ;  yet,  I  think,  they  have  left 
enough  to  constitute  a  presumption,  how  they  would 
have  decided  it,  had  it  been  proposed  or  thought  of. 

What  occurs  to  this  purpose  is  contained  in  the  fol- 
lowing observations  : 

1 .  Human  life  is  spoken  of  as  a  term  assigned  or  pre- 
scribed to  us.  "Let  us  run  with  patience  the  race^  that 
is  set  before  us.**  "I  have  finished  my  course.'*  "  That 
I  may  finish  my  course  with  joy.**  "  You  have  need  o£ 
patience,  that  after  ye  have  done  the  will  of  God,  ye 
might  receive  the  promises.**  These  expressions  appear 
to  me  inconsistent  with  the  opinion,  that  we  are  at  Ub- 
erty  to  determine  the  durationof  our  lives  for  ourselves^ 
If  this  were  the  case,  with  what  propriety  could  life  be 
called  a  race  thai  is  set  before  us,  or,  which  is  the  same 
thing,  our  course;  that  is,  the  course  set  out,  or  appoint- 
ed to  us  ?  The  remaining  quotation  is  equally  strong  : 
*'  that  after  ye  have  done  the  will  of  God,  ye  might 
receive  the  promises.'*  The  most  natural  meaning  that 
can  be  given  to  the  words,  *'  after  ye  have  done  the 
will  of  God,**  is,  after  ye  have  discharged  the  duties 
of  life  so  long  as  God  is  pleased  to  continue  you  in  it. 
According  to  which  interpretation,  the  text  militates 
strongly  against  suicide  ;  and  they  who  reject  this 
pharaphrase,  will  please  to  propose  a  better. 

2.  There  is  not  one  quality,  which  Christ  and  his 
Apostles  inculcate  upon  their  followers  so  often  or  so 
earnestly,  as  that  of  patience  under  afHiction.  Now  this 
virtue  would  have  been  in  a  great  measure  superseded, 
and  the  exhortations  toit  might  have  been  spared,  if  the 
disciples  of  his  religion  had  been  at  liberty  to  quit  the 
v/orld,  as  soon  as  they  grew  v/eary  of  the  ill  usage  which 
they  received  init.  When  the  evils  of  life  pressed  sore, 
they  were  to  look  forvi'ard  to  a  "  far  more  exceeding 
and  eternal  weight  of  glory  ;"  they  were  to  receive 
them  "  as  the  chastening  of  the  Lord,"  as  the  intima- 
tions of  his  care  and  love  :  by  these  and  the  like  reflec- 
tions, they  were  to  support  and  improve  themselves  un- 
der their  sufferings,  but  nota  hint  has  any  whereescaped 


Suicide,  25l 

■of  seeking  relief  in  a  voluntary  death.  The  following 
text,  in  particular,  strongly  combats  all  impatience  of 
distress,  of  which  the  greatest  is  that  which  prompts  to 
acts  of  suicide:  "Consider  him  that  endured  such  con- 
tradiction of  sinners  against  himself,  lest  ye  be  wearied 
and  faint  in  your  minds."  I  would  offer  my  comment 
upon  this  passage  in  these  two  queries;  1st,  whether  a 
christian  convert,  who  had  been  impelled  by  the  contin- 
uance and  urgency  of  his  sufferings,  to  destroy  his  own 
life,  would  not  have  been  thought  by  the  author  of  this 
text,  *'to  have  been  weary,'*  "  to  have  fainted  in  his 
mind,"  to  have  fallen  off  from  that  example,  which  is 
here  proposed  tothemeditation  of  Christians  in  distress? 
And  yet,  2dly,  whether  such  an  act  would  not  have 
-been  attended  v/ith  all  the  circumstances  of  mitigation, 
which  can  excuse  or  extenuate  suicide  at  this  day  ? 

3.  The  conduct  of  the  Apostles,  and  of  the  Christians 
of  the  apostolic  age,  affords  no  obscure  indication  of 
their  sentiments  upon  this  point.  They  lived,  we  are 
sure,  ina  confirnied  persuasion  of  the  existence,as  well 
as  of  the  happiness  of  a  future  state.  They  experienced 
in  this  world  every  extremity  of  external  injury  and 
distress.  To  die  was  gain.  The  change  which  death 
brought  with  it  was,  in  their  expectation,  infinitely  ben- 
eficial. Yet  it  never,  that  we  can  find,  entered  into  the 
-intention  of  one  of  them,  to  hasten  this  change  by  an  act 
of  suicide:  from  which  it  isdifficult  to  say  what  motive 
-could  have  so  universally  witheld  them,  except  an  ap- 
prehension of  some  unlawfulness  in  the  expedient. 

Having  stated  what  we  have  been  able  to  collect,  in 
opposition  to  the  lawfulness  of  suicide,  by  way  of  direct 
proof,  it  seems  unnecesvsary  to  open  a  separate  contro- 
versy with  all  the  arguments  which  are  made  use  of  to 
defend  it  ;  which  would  only  lead  us  into  a  repetition 
of  what  has  been  offered  already-  The  following  ar- 
gument, however,  being  somewhat  more  artificial  and 
imposing  than  the  rest,  as  well  as  distinct  from  the  gen- 
eral consideration  of  the  subject,  cannot  so  properly  be 
passed  over.  If  we  deny  to  the  individuala  right  over 
his  own  life,  it  seems  impossible,  it  is  said,  to  reconcile 


258  Suicide. 

with  the  law  of  nature  that  right  which  the  state  claims 
and  exercises  over  the  lives  of  its  subjects,  when  it  or- 
dains or  inflicts  capital  punishments.  Forthis  right,  like 
all  other  just  authority  in  the  state,  can  only  be  derived 
from  the  compact  and  virtual  consent  of  the  citizens 
which  compose  the  state  ;  and  it  seems  self-evident,  if 
any  principle  in  morality  be  so,  that  no  one,  by  his  con- 
sent, can  transfer  to  another  a  right  which  he  does  not 
possess  himself.  It  will  be  equally  difficult  to  account 
for  the  power  of  the  state  to  commit  its  subjects  to  the 
dangers  of  war,  and  to  expose  their  lives  without  scru- 
ple in  the  field  of  battle  ;  especially  in  offensive  hostil- 
ities, in  which  the  privileges  of  self-defence  cannot  be 
pleaded  with  any  appearance  of  truth  ;  and  still  more 
difficult  to  explain,  how  in  such,  or  in  any  circum- 
stances, prodigality  of  life  can  be  a  virtue,  if  the  pres- 
ervation of  it  be  a  duty  of  our  nature. 

This  whole  reasoning  sets  out  from  one  error,  name- 
ly, that  the  state  acquires  its  right  over  the  life  of  the 
subject  from  the  subject's  own  consent, as  a  part  of  what 
originally  and  personally  belonged  to  himself,  and 
which  he  has  made  over  to  his  governors.  The  truth 
is,  the  state  derives  this  right,  neither  from  the  consent 
of  the  subject, nor  through  the  medium  ofthat  consent, 
but,  as  I  may  say,  immediately  from  the  donation  of 
the  Deity.  Finding  that  such  a  power  in  the  sovereign 
of  the  community  is  expedient,  if  not  necessary  for  the 
community  itself,  it  is  justly  presumed  to  be  the  will  of 
God,  that  the  sovereign  should  possess  and  exercise  it. 
It  is  this  presumption  which  constitutes  the  right  ;  it  is 
the  same  indeed  which  canstitutes  every  other ;  and  if 
there  were  the  like  reasons  to  authorize  the  presump- 
tion in  the  case  of  private  persons,  suicide  would  be  as 
justifiable  as  war,  or  capital  executions.  But,  until  it 
can  be  shown,  that  the  power  over  human  life  may 
be  converted  to  the  same  advantage  in  the  hands  of  in- 
dividuals over  their  own,  as  in  those  of  the  state  over 
the  lives  of  its  subjects,  and  that  it  may  be  entrusted 
with  equal  safety  to  both,  there  is  no  room  for  arguing 
from  the  existence  of  such  a  right  in  the  latter,  to  the 
toleration  of  it  in  the  former. 


BOOK  V. 


Duties  towards  God. 


CHAPTER  I. 
DIVISION  OF  THESE  DUTIES. 

IN  one  sense,  every  duty  is  a  duty  towards  God? 
since  it  is  his  will  which  makes  it  a  duty  :  but  there 
are  some  duties,  of  which  God  is  the  object  as  well  as 
the  author  :  and  these  are  peculiarly,  and  in  a  more 
appropriated  sense,  called  Duties  ioivat'ds  God. 

That  silent  piety,  which  consists  in  a  habit  of  tra- 
cing cut  the  Creator's  wisdom  and  goodness  in  the 
objects  around  us,  or  in  the  history  of  his  dispensa- 
tions ;  of  referring  the  blessings  we  enjoy  to  his 
bounty,  and  of  resorting  in  our  di'^tresses  to  his  suc- 
cour, may  possibly  be  more  acceptable  to  the  Deity, 
than  any  visible  e-  pressions  of  devotion  whatever. 
Yet  these  latter  (which,  although  they  may  be  excel- 
led, are  not  superseded  by  the  former)  compose  the 
only  part  of  the  subject  which  admits  of  direction  or 
disquisition  from  a  moralist. 

Our  duty  towards  God,  so  far  as  it  is  external,  is 
divided  into  worship  and  reverence.  God  is  the  imme- 
diate object  of  both:  and  the  difference  between  them 
is, that  the  one  consists  in  action,  the  other  in  forbear- 
ance. When  we  go  to  church  on  the  Lord's  day,  led 
thither  by  a  sense  of  duty  towards  God,  we  perform 
an  act  of  worship  :  when,  from  the  same  motive,  we 
rest  in  a  journey  upon  that  day,  we  discharge  a  duty  of 
reverence. 


260  Duty  and  Efficacy  of  Prayer^ 

Divine  worship  is  made  up  of  adoration,  thanks- 
giving and  prayer.  But,  as  what  we  have  to  offer  con- 
cerning the  two  former,  may  be  observed  of  prayer, 
we  shall  make  that  the  title  of  the  foJlowing  Chapters, 
and  the  direct  subject  of  our  consideration- 


CHAPTER    II. 

OF  THE  DUTY  AND  OF  THE  EFFICACY  OF 
PRAYER,  SO  FAR  AS  THE    SAME    AP- 
PEAR  FROM  THE  LIGHT  OF  NATURE. 

\VhEN  one  man  desires  to  obtain  any  thing 
of  another,  he  betakes  himself  to  entreaty  :  and  this 
may  be  observed  of  mankind  in  all  ages  and  countries 
of  the  world.  Now  what  is  universal,  may  be  called 
natural;  and  it  seems  probable,  that  God,  as  our  su- 
preme governor,  should  expect  that  towards  himself, 
which,by  a  natural  impulse,  or  by  the  irresistible  order 
of  our  constitution*  he  has  prompted  us  to  pay  to  every 
other  being  on  whom  we  depend. 

The  same  may  be  said  of  thanksgiving. 

Prayer  likewise  is  necessary  to  keep  up  in  the  minds 
Tsf  mankind  a  sense  of  God*s  agency  in  the  universe, 
and  of  their  own  dependency  upon  him. 

Yet  after  all,  the  duty  of  prayer  depends  upon  its 
efficacy:  for  I  confess  myself  unable  to  conceive,  how 
any  man  can  pray,  or  be  obliged  to  pray,  who  ex- 
pects nothing  from  his  prayers  ;  but  who  is  persuad- 
ed at  the  time  he  utters  his  request,  that  it  cannot 
possibly  produce  the  smallest  impression  upon  the  Be- 
ing to  whom  it  is  addressed,  or  advantage  to  himself. 
Now  the  efficacy  of  prayer  imports,  that  we  obtain 
something  in  consequence  of  praying,  which  we 
should  not  have  received  without  prayer  ;  against  all 
expectation  of  which,  the  following  objection  has 
feeen  often  and  seriously   alleged.     "  If  it  be  most 


Ditt^  and  Efficacy  of  Prayer,  261 

agreeable  to  perfect  wisdom  and  justice,  that  we 
should  receive  what  we  desire,  God,  as  perfectly  wise 
and  just,  will  give  it  to  us  without  asking  :  if  it  be  not 
agreeable  to  these  attributes  of  his  nature,  our  entrea* 
ties  cannot  move  him  to  give  it  us  ;  and  it  were  im= 
pious  to  expect  they  should.'*  In  fewer  words, 
thus  J  "  If  what  we  request  be  fit  for  us,  we  shall 
have  it  without  praying  ;  if  it  be  not  fit  for  us,  we 
cannot  obtain  it  by  praying."  This  objection  ad- 
mits but  of  one  answer,  namely,  that  it  may  be 
agreeable  to  perfect  wisdom,  to  grant  that  to  our 
prayers,  which  it  would  not  have  been  agreeable  to 
the  same  wisdom  to  have  given  us  without  praying 
for.  But  what  virtue,  you  will  ask,  is  there  in 
prayer,  which  should  make  a  favour  consistent  with 
wisdom,  which  would  not  have  been  so  without  it? 
To  this  question,  which  contains  the  whole  difficulty 
attending  the  subject,  the  following  possibilities  are 
oflFered  in  reply. 

1 .  A  favour  granted  to  prayer  may  be  more  apt, 
on  that  very  account,  to  produce  good  effects  upon 
the  person  obliged.  It  may  hold  in  the  divine 
bounty,  what  experience  has  raised  into  a  proverb 
in  the  collation  of  human  benefits,  that  what  is  ob- 
tained without  asking,  is  oftentimes  received  without 
gratitude. 

2.  It  may  be  consistent  with  the  wisdom  of  the 
Deity  to  withhold  his  favours  till  they  be  asked  for, 
as  an  expedient  to  encourage  devotion  in  his  ration- 
al creation,  in  order  thereby  to  keep  up  and  circu= 
late  a  knowledge  and  sense  of  their  dependency  upon 
him. 

3.  Prayer  has  a  natural  tendency  to  amend  the  pe- 
titioner himself  j  and  thus  to  bring  him  within  the 
^rules,  which  the  wisdom  of  the  Deity  has  prescribed  to 
the  dispensation  of  his  favours. 

If  these,  or  any  other  assignable  suppositions,  serve 
to  remove  the  apparent  repugnancy  between  the 
success  of  prayer   and  the  character  of  the  DeitVj  it 


"262  Duty  and  Efficacy  of  Prayer, 

is  enough  ;  for  the  question  with  the  petitioner  is' 
not  from  which,  out  of  many  motives,  God  may 
grant  his  petition,  or  in  what  particular  manner  he  is 
moved  by  the  supplications  of  his  creatures  ;  but 
whether  it  be  consistent  with  his  nature  to  be  moved 
at  all,  and  whether  there  be  any  conceivable  motives, 
which  may  dispose  the  divine  will  to  grant  the  peti- 
tioner what  he  wants,  in  consequence  of  his  praying 
for  it.  It  is  sufficient  for  the  petitioner  that  he  gain 
his  end.  It  is  not  necessary  to  devotion,  perhaps 
not  very  consistent  with  it,  that  the  circuit  of  causes, 
by  which  his  prayers  prevail,  should  be  known  to  the 
petitioner,  much  less  that  they  should  be  present 
to  his  imagination  at  the  time.  All  that  is  necessary 
is,  that  there  be  no  impossibility  ?.pprehended  in  the 
matter. 

Thus  much  must  be  conceded  to  the  objection  : 
that  prayer  cannot  reasonably  be  offered  to  God  with 
all  the  same  views,  with  which  we  oftentimes  address 
our  entreaties  to  men  (views  which  are  not  commonly 
or  easily  separated  from  it)  viz.  to  inform  them  of  our 
wants  or  desires  ;  to  teaze  them  out  by  importunity  ; 
to  work  upon  their  indolence  or  compassion,  in  order 
to  persuade  them  to  do  what  they  ought  to  have  done 
before,  or  ought  not  to  do  at  all. 

But  suppose  there  existed  a  prince,  who  was  known 
by  his  subjects  to  act,  of  his  own  accord,  always  and 
invariably  for  the  best ;  the  situation  of  a  petitioner, 
who  solicited  a  favour  or  pardon  from  such  a  prince, 
would  sufficiently  resemble  ours  :  and  the  question 
vi'ith  him,  as  with  us,  would  be,  whether,  the  char- 
acter of  the  prince  being  considered,  there  remained 
any  chance  that  he  should  obtain  from  him  by  prayer, 
what  he  would  not  have  received  without  it.  I  do  not 
conceive,  that  the  character  of  such  a  prince  would 
necessarily  exclude  theefl'ect  of  his  subject's  prayers  ; 
for  when  that  prince  reflected,  that  the  earnestness 
and  humility  of  the  supplicatron  had  generated  in 
the  suppliant  a  frame  of  mind,  upon  which  the  par- 
don or  favour  asked  would  produce  a  permanent 


I)ut^  and  Efficacy  of  Prayer^  26S 

and  active  sense  of  gratitude  ;  that  the  granting  of 
it  to  prayer  would  put  others  upon  praying  to  him, 
and  by  that  means  preserve  the  love  and  submission 
of  his  subjects,  upon  which  love  and  submission,  their 
own  happiness,  as  well  as  his  glory,  depended  ;  that, 
beside  that  the  memory  of  the  particular  kindness 
would  be  heightened  and  prolonged  by  the  anxiety 
with  which  it  had  been  sued  for,  prayer  had  in  other 
respects  so  disposed  and  prepared  the  mind  of  the  pe- 
titioner, as  to  render  capable  of  future  services  him 
who  before  was  unqualified  for  any  :  might  not  that 
prince,  I  say,  although  he  proceeded  upon  no  other 
considerations  than  the  strict  rectitute  and  expedi- 
ency of  the  measure,  grant  a  favour  or  pardon  to 
this  man-,  which  he  did  not  grant  to  another^  who  was 
too  proud,  too  lazy,  or  too  busy,  too  indifferent 
whether  he  received  it  or  not,  or  too  insensible  of 
the  sovereign's  absolute  power  to  give  or  to  withhold 
it,  ever  to  ask  for  it ;  or  even  to  the  philosopher^  who, 
from  an  opinion  of  the  fruitlessness  of  all  addresses 
to  a  prince  of  the  character  which  he  had  formed  to 
himself,  refused  in  his  own  example  and  discouraged 
in  others,  all  outward  returns  of  gratitude,  acknowl- 
edgements of  duty,  or  application  to  the  sovereign's 
mercy  or  bounty  ;  the  disuse  of  which  (seeing  affec- 
tions do  not  long  subsist  which  are  never  expressed) 
was  followed  by  a  decay  of  loyalty  and  zeal  amongst 
his  subjects,  and  threatened  to  end  in  a  forgetfulness 
of  his  rights,  and  a  contempt  of  his  authority  ?  These, 
together  with  other  assignable  considerations,  and 
some  perhaps  inscrutable,  and  even  inconceivable 
by  the  persons  upon  whom  his  will  was  to  be  exer- 
cised, might  pass  in  the  mind  of  the  prince,  and  move 
his  counsels  ;  whilst  nothing  in  the  meantime  dwelt". 
in  the  petitioner's  thoughts,  but  a  sense  of  of  his  own 
grief  and  wants  ;  of  the  power  and  goodness  from 
which  alone  he  was  to  look  for  relief  ;  and  of  his 
obligation  to  endeavour,  by  future  obedience,  to  ren- 
der that  person  propitious  to  his    happiness,  in  whose 

K    K 


264f  Duty  and  Efficacy  of  Prayef, 

hands,  and  at  the  disposal  of  whose  mercy,  he  found 
himself  to  be. 

The  objection  to  prayer  supposes,  that  a  perfectly 
wise  being  must  necessarily  be  inexorable  :  but  where 
is  the  proof,  that  hiexo-  ability  is  any  part  of  perfect 
wisdom  ;  especially  of  that  wisdom,  which  is  explain- 
ed to  consist  in  bringing  about  the  most  beneficial 
ends  by  the  wisest  means  ? 

The  objection  likewise  assumes  another  principle, 
which  is  attended  with  considerable  difficulty  and 
obscurity,  namely,  that  upon  every  occasion  there  is 
onet  and  only  one  mode  of  acting  for  the  best  ;  and 
that  the  divine  will  is  necessarily  determined  and 
confined  to  that  mode  :  both  which  positions  pre- 
sume a  knowledge  of  universal  nature,  much  beyond 
what  we  are  capable  of  attaining.  Indeed  when  we 
apply  to  the  divine  nature  such  expressions  as  these, 
"  God  must  always  do  what  is  right,"  "  God  cannot, 
from  rhe  moral  perfection  and  necessity  of  his  nature, 
act  otherwise  than  for  the  best,"  we  ought  to  apply 
them  with  much  indeterminateness  and  reserve ;  or 
rather,  we  ought  to  confess,  that  there  is  something 
in  the  subject  out  of  the  reach  of  our  apprehension  : 
for  in  our  apprehension,  to  be  under  a  necessity  of 
acting  according  to  any  rule,  is  inconsistent  with 
free  agency  ;  and  it  makes  no  difference,  which  we 
can  understand,  whether  the  necessity  be  internal  or 
external,  or  that  the  rule  is  the  rule  of  perfect  recti- 
tude. 

But  efficacy  is  ascribed  to  prayer  witlicvit  the  proof, 
we  are  told,  which  can  alone  in  such  a  subject  produce 
conviction,  the  confirmation  of  experience.  Con- 
cerning the  appeal  to  experience,  I  shall  content  my« 
self  with  this  remark,  that  if  prayer  were  suffered  to 
disturb  the  order  of  second  causes  appointed  in  the 
universe  too  much,  or  to  produce  its  effect  with  the 
same  regularity  that  they  Aq,  it  v/ould  introduce  a 
change  into  human  affairs,  which  in  some  important 
respects  would  b."  evidently  for  the  w'orse.  Who, 
for  example,  would  labour,  if  his  necessities  could  be 


Duty  and  Efficacy  of  Prayer*  265 

supplied  with  equal  certainty  by  prayer  ?  How  few 
would  contain  within  any  bounds  of  moderation 
those  passions  and  pleasures,  which  at  present  are 
checked  only  by  disease  or  the  dread  of  it,  if  prayer 
would  infallibly  restore  health  ?  In  short,  it  the  effi- 
cacy of  prayer  were  so  constant  and  observable  as  to 
be  relied  upon  before-hand,  it  is  easy  to  foresee  that 
the  conduct  of  mankind  would,  ih  proportion  to 
that  reliance,  become  careles  and  disorderly.  It  is 
possible  in  the  nature  of  things,  that  our  prayers  may, 
in  many  instances,  be  efficacious,  and  yet  our  experi- 
ence of  their  efficacy  be  dubious  an4  obscure.  There- 
fore, if  the  light  of  nature  instruct  us  by  any  other 
arguments  to  hope  for  effect  from  prayer  ;  still  more, 
if  the  scriptures  authorize  these  hopes  by  promises 
of  acceptance  ;  it  seems  not  a  sufficient  reason  for 
calling  in  question  the  reality  of  such  effi^cts,  that  our 
observations  of  them  are  ambiguous  :  especially  since 
it  appjjrs  probable,  that  this  very  ambiguity  is  nec- 
essary to  the  happiness  and  safety  of  human  life.  \ 

But  some,  whose  objections  do  not  exclude  all 
prayer,  are  offignded  with  the  mode  of  prayer  in  use 
amongst  us,  and  with  many  of  the  subjects,  which 
are  almost  universally  introduced  into  public  worship, 
and  recommended  to  private  devotion.  To  pray  for 
particular  favours  by  name,  is  to  dictate,  it  has  been 
■said,  to  divine  wisdom  and  goodness  :  to  intercede 
for  others,  especially  for  whole  nations  and  empires, 
is  still  worse ;  it  is  to  presume  that  we  possess  such 
an  interest  with  the  Deity,  as  to  be  able,  by  our  appli- 
cations, to  bend  the  most  important  of  his  counsels  5 
and  that  the  happiness  of  others,  and  even  the  pros- 
perity of  communities,  is  to  depend  upon  this  inter- 
est and  upon  our  choice.  Now  how  unequal  soev- 
er our  knowledge  of  the  divine  economy  may  be  to 
the  solution  of  this  difficulty,  which  requires  perhaps 
a  comprehension  of  the  entire  plan,  and  of  all  the  ends 
of  God's  moral  government,  to  explain  satisfactorily, 
we  can  understand  one  thing  concerning  it,  that  it  is 
after  all  nothing  more  than  the  making  of  one  man 


i2,66  Duty  and  Efficacy  of  Prayer. 

the  instrument  of  happiness  and  misery  to  another  i 
which  is  perfectly  of  a  piece  with  the  course  and  order 
that  obtain,  and  which  we  must  beheve  were  intended 
to  obtain,  in  human  affairs.  Why  may  we  not  be  as- 
sisted by  the  prayers  of  other  men,  who  are  behold- 
en for  our  support  to  their  labour  ?  Why  may  not 
our  happiness  be  made  in  some  cases  to  depend  upon 
the  intercession,  as  it  certainly  does  in  many,  upon 
the  good  offices  of  our  neighbours  ?  The  happiness 
and  niisery  of  great  numbers  we  see  oftentimes  at  the 
disposal  of  ocie  man's  choice,  or  liable  to  be  much  af- 
fected by  his  conduct :  what  greater  difficulty  is  there 
in  supposing,  that  the  prayers  of  an  individual  may 
avert  a  calamity  from  multitudes,  or  be  accepted  to 
the  benefit  of  whole  communities  ? 


CHAPTER     III. 

OF  THE  DUTY  AND  EFFICACY  OF  PRAYER, 
AS  REPRESENTED  IN  SCRIPTURE. 

X  HE  reader  will  have  observed,  that  the  re- 
flections stated  in  the  preceding  Chapter,  whatever 
truth  and  weight  they  may  be  allowed  to  contain, 
rise  many  of  them  no  higher,  than  to  negative  argu- 
ments in  favour  of  the  propriety  of  addressing  prayer 
to  God.  To  prove  that  the  efficacy  of  prayer  is  not 
inconsistent  with  the  attributes  of  the  Deity,  does 
not  prove  that  prayers  are  actually  efficacious  ;  and 
jn  the  want  of  that  unequivocal  testimony  which  ex- 
perience  alone  could  afford  to  this  point,  (but  which 
we  do  not  possess,  and  have  seen  good  reason  why 
we  are  not  to  expect)  the  light  of  nature  leaves  us 
to  controverted  probabilities,  drawn  from  the  im- 
pulse by  which  all  mankind  have  been  almost  uni- 
versally prompted  to  devotion,  and  from  some  ben- 
eficial  purposes,  which,  it  is  conceived,  may  be  bet- 
ter answered  by  the  audience  of  prayer,  than  by  any 
other  mode  of  communicating  the   same  blessings. 


Duty  and  Efficacy  of  Prayer.  2G7 

The  revelations,  which  we  deem  authentic,  complete- 
ly supply  this  defect  of  natural  religion.  They  re- 
quire prayer  to  God  as  a  duty  ;  and  they  contaiii 
positive  assurances  of  its  efficacy  and  acceptance. 
"We  could  have  no  reasonable  motive  for  the  exer- 
cise of  prayer,  without  believing  that  it  may  avail  to 
the  rehef  of  our  wants.  This  belief  can  onl)*  be 
founded,  either  in  a  sensible  experience  of  the  effect 
of  prayer,  or  in  promises  of  acceptance  signified  by 
divine  authority.  Our  knowledge  would  have  come 
to  us  in  the  former  way,  less  capable,  indeed,  of 
doubt,  but  subjected  to  the  abuses  and  inconven- 
iences briefly  described  above  ;  in  the  latter  way, 
that  is,  by  authorized  significations  of  God's  gener- 
al disposition  to  hear  and  answer  the  devout  suppli- 
cations of  his  creatures,  we  are  encouraged  to  pray, 
but  not  to  place  such  a  dependence  upon  prayer,  as 
might  relax  other  obligations,  or  confound  the  or- 
der of  events  and  human  expectations. 

The  scriptures  not  only  affirm  the  propriety  of 
prayer  in  general,  but  furnish  precepts  or  examples 
which  justify  some  topics  and  some  modes  of  prayer 
that  have  been  thought  exceptionable.  And  as  the 
whole  subject  rests  so  much  upon  the  foundation  of 
scripture,  I  shall  put  down  at  length  texts  applicable 
to  the  five  following  heads  ;  to  the  duty  and  efficacy 
of  prayer  in  general  ;  of  prayer  for  particular  fa- 
vours by  name ;  for  public  national  blessings  ;  of 
intercession  for  others  ;  of  the  repetition  of  unsuc- 
cessful prayers. 

1.  Texts  enjoining  prayer  in  general  :  ''  Ask,  and 
it  shall  be  given  you  ;  seek,  and  ye  shall  find."  "  If 
ye,  being  evil,  know  how  to  give  good  gifts  imto 
your  children,  how  much  more  shall  your  Father, 
which  is  in  heaven,  give  good  things  to  them  that 
ask  him  V*  "  Watch  ye,  therefore,  and  pray  always, 
that  ye  may  be  accounted  worthy  to  escape  all  those 
things  that  shall  come  to  pass,  and  to  stand  before 
the.  Son  of  Man."  "  Serving  the  Lord,  rejoicing  in 
hope,  patient  in  tribulation,  continuing  instant  in  pray- 


268  Duty  and  Efficacy  of  Prayer, 

(fr."  "  Be  careful  for  nothing,  but  in  every  thing 
by  prayer  and  supplication,  with  thanksgiving  let  your 
requests  be  made  known  unto  God."  "  I  will, 
thorefore,  that  men  pray  every  where^  lifting  up  holy 
hands  without  wrath  and  doubting."  "  Pray  with- 
out ceasing.*'  Matt.  vii.  7.  11.  Luke  xxi.  36.  Rom, 
xii.  12.  Phil.  iv.  6.  1  Thess.  v.  17.  l  Tim.  ii.  8. 
Add  to  these,  that  Christ's  reproof  of  the  ostentation 
and  prolixity  of  pharisaical  prayers,  and  his  recom- 
mendation to  his  disciples  of  retirement  and  simplic- 
ity in  theirs,  together  with  his  dictating  a  particular 
form  of  prayer,  all  presuppose  prayer  to  be  an  accept- 
able  and  availing  service. 

2.  Examples  of  prayer  for  particular  favours  by 
name :  "  For  this  thing  (to  wit,  some  bodily  infir- 
mity, which  he  calls  a  thorn  given  him  in  the  flesh) 
I  besought  the  Lord  thrice  that  it  might  depart  from 
me."  "  Night  and  day  praying  exceedingly,  that 
we  might  see  your  face^  and  perfect  that  which  is 
lacking  in  your  faith."  2  Cor.  xii.  8.  1  Thess.  iii.  10. 

3.  Directions  to  pray  for  national  or  public  bless- 
ings :  "  Pray  for  the  peace  of  Jerusalem,*'  "  Ask  ye  of 
the  Lord  rain,  in  the  time  of  the  latter  rain  ;•  so  the 
Lord  shall  make  bright  clouds,  and  give  them  show- 
ers of  rain,  to  every  one  grass  in  the  field."  "  I  ex- 
hort, therefore,  that  first  of  all,  supplications,  pray- 
ers, intercessions,  and  giving  of  thanks,  be  made  for 
■all  men  ;  for  kings  and  for  all  that  are  in  authorit)'-^ 
that  we  may  lead  a  quiet  and  peaceable  life,  in  all  god- 
liness and  honesty  ;  for  this  is  good  and  acceptable 
in  the  sight  of  God  our  Saviour."  Psalm  cxxii.  6. 
Zech.  X.  i.   1  Tim.  ii.  1,2,  3. 

4.  Examples  of  intercession  and  exhortations  to 
intercede  for  others  :  "  And  Moses  besought  the 
Lord  his  God,  and  said,  Lord,  why  doth  thy  wrath 
wax  hot  against  thy  people  ?  Remember  Abraham, 
Isaac,  and  Israel,  thy  servants.  And  the  Lord  re- 
pented of  the  evil  which  he  thought  to  do  unto  his 
people/'  "  Peter  therefore  was  kept  in  prison,  but 
prayer  was  made  without  ceasing  of  the  church  unto 


Duty  and  Efficacy  of  Prayer  269 

God  for  him."  "  For  God  is  my  witness,  that  with- 
out ceasing  I  make  mention  of  you  always  in  my  prayers,'* 
"  Now  I  beseech  you,  brethren,  for  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ's  sake,  and  for  the  love  of  the  Spirit,  that  ye 
strive  together  with  me,  itl  your  prayers  for  ?ne." 
**  Confess  your  faults  one  to  another,  and  pray  for  one 
another^  that  ye  may  be  healed  :  the  effectual  fervent 
prayer  of  the  righteous  man  availeth  much."  Exod.. 
xxxii.  11.  Acts  xii.  5.  Rom.  i.  9.  xv.  30.  James  v.  16. 
5.  Declarations  and  examples  authorizing  the  rep- 
etition of  unsuccessful  prayers  :  "  And  he  spoke  a 
parable  unto  them,  to  this  end,  that  men  ought  al- 
ways to  pray,  and  not  to  faint.'*  "  And  he  left 
them,  and  went  away  again,  and  prayed  the  third 
iifne,  saying  the  same  words.*'  "  For  this  thing  I  be- 
sought the  Lord  thrice  that  it  might  depart  from 
me."     Luke  xviii.  1.  Matt.  xxvi.  44'.  2  Cor.  xii.  8.* 


CHAPTER  IV, 

OF  PRIVATE  PRAYER,   FAMILY   PRAYER,. 
AND  PUBLIC  WORSHIP. 

Concerning  these  three  descriptions  of 
devotion,  it  is  first  of  all  to  be  observed,  that  each 
has  its  separate  and  peculiar  use  j  and  therefore, 
that  the  exercise  of  one  species  of  worship,  however 
regular  it  be,  does  not  supersede,  or  dispense  with 
the  obligation  of  either  of  the  other  two. 

I.     Private  Prayer  is  recommended  for  the  sake  of 
the  following  advantages  : 

•The  reformed  churches  of  Christendom,  sticking  close  in  this  article  to 
their  guide,  have  laid  aside  prayers  for  the  dead,  as  autiiorized  by  no  pre- 
cept or  precedent  found  in  scripture.  For  the  same  reason  they  properly 
reject  the  invocation  of  saints;  as  also  because  such  invocations  suppose  in 
the  saints  whom  th;y  address  a  knowledge  which  can  perceive  what  passes 
in  difTerent  regions  of  the  earth  at  the  same  time.  And  they  deem  it  to© 
much  to  take  for  granted,  without  the  smallest  intimation  of  such  a  th^ng  in 
scripture,  that  any  created  being  possesses  a  faculty  little  short  of  th^at  om- 
niscience and  omnipresence  which  they  ascribe  to  the  Deity. 


570  Duty  and  Efficacy  of  Prayer. 

Private  wants  cannot  always  be  made  the  subject? 
of  public  prayer  ;  but  whatever  reason  there  is  for 
praying  at  all,  there  is  the  same  for  making  the  sore 
and  grief  of  each  man's  own  heart  the  business  of 
his  application  to  God.  This  must  be  the  office  of* 
private  exercises  of  devotion,  being  imperfectly,  if 
at  all,  practicable  in  any  other. 

Private  prayer  is  generally  more  devout  and  ear- 
nest than  the  share  we  are  capable  of  taking  in  joint 
acts  of  worship  ;  because  it  affords  leisure  and  op- 
portunity for  t!ie  circumstantial  recollection  of  those 
personal  wants,  by  the  remembrance  and  ideas  of 
which,  the  warmth  and  earnestness  of  prayer  are 
chiefly  excited. 

Private  prayer,  in  proportion  as  it  is  usually  ac- 
compained  with  more  actual  thought  and  reflection 
of  the  petitioner's  own,  has  a  greater  tendency  than 
other  modes  of  devotion  to  revive  and  fasten  upon 
the  mind  the  general  impressions  of  religion.  Soli- 
tude powerfully  assists  this  effect.  When  a  man 
finds  himself  alone  in  communication  with  his  Cre- 
ator, his  imagination  becomes  filled  with  a  conflux 
of  awful  ideas  concerning  the  universal  agency,  and 
invisible  presence  of  that  Being  ;  concerning  what  is 
likely  to  become  of  himself;  and  of  the  superlative 
importance  of  providing  for  the  happiness  of  his  fu- 
ture existence,  by  endeavours  to  please  him  who  is 
the  arbiter  of  his  destiny  ;  reflections  which,  when- 
ever they  gain  admittance,  for  a  season,  overwhelm 
all  others  ;  and  leave,  when  they  depart,  a  solemnity 
upon  the  thoughts  that  will  seldom  fail,  in  some  dp- 
gree,  to  affect  the  conduct  of  life. 

Private  prayer,  thus  recommended  by  its  own 
propriety,  and  by  advantages  not  attainable  in  any 
form  of  religious  communion,  receives  a  superior 
sanciion  from  the  authority  and  example  of  Christ. 
"  When  thou  prayest,  enter  into  thy  closet  ;  and 
when  thou  hast  shut  thy  door,  pray  to  thy  Father 
which  is  in  secret  ;  and  thy  Father  which  sceth  in 
secret,  shall  reward  thee  openly,"     "  And  when  he 


Duty  and  Efficacy  of  Prayer.  271 

had  sent  the  multitudes  away,   he   went  up  into   a 
mountain  apart  to  pray  "  Matt.  vi.  6.  xiv.  23. 

]  I.     Family  Prayer, 

The  peculiar  use  of  family  piety  sonsists  in  its  in- 
fluence upon  servants,  and  the  young  members  of  a 
family,  who  want  sufficient  seriousness  and  reflection 
to  retire  of  their  own  accord  to  the  exercise  of  pri- 
vate devotion,  and  whose  attention  you  cannot  ea- 
sily command  in  public  worship.  The  example  also 
and  authority  of  a  father  and  master  act  in  this  way 
with  the  greatest  force  ;  for  his  private  prayers,  to 
which  his  children  and  servants  are  not  witnesses, 
act  not  at  all  upon  them  as  examples  ;  and  his  at- 
tendence  upon  public  worship  they  will  readily  im- 
pute to  fashion,  to  a  care  to  preserve  appearances, 
to  a  concern  for  decency  and  character,  and  to  many 
motives  besides  a  sense  of  duty  to  God.  Add  to 
this,  that  forms  of  public  worship,  in  proportion  as 
they  are  more  comprehensive,  are  always  less  inter- 
esting than  family  prayers  ;  and  that  the  ardour  of 
devotion  is  better  supported,  and  the  sympathy  more 
easily  propagated,  through  a  small  assembly  connect- 
ed by  the  affections  of  domestic  society,  than  in  the 
presence  of  a  mixed  congregation. 

III.     Public  Worship. 

If  the  worship  of  God  be  a  duty  of  religion,  pub= 
lie  worship  is  a  necessary  instiution  ;  forasmuch  as 
without  it,  the  greater  part  of  mankind  would  exer- 
cise no  religious  worship  at  all. 

These  assemblies  afford  also,  at  the  same  time,  op- 
portunities for  moral  and  religious  instruction  to 
those  vi^ho  otherwise  would  receive  none.  In  all 
Protestant,  and  in  most  Christian  countries,  the  ele- 
ments of  natural  religion,  and  the  important  parts 
of  the  evangelic  history,  are  familiar  to  the  lowest  of 
the  people.  This  competent  degree  and  general  dif- 
fusion of  religious  knov^^ledge  amonst  all  orders  of 
Christians,  which  will  appear  a  great  thing  when 
compared  with  the  intellectual  condition  of  barba- 
rous nations,  can   fairly,  I  think,  be  ascribed   to  no 

L    L 


27ii  Duty  and  Efficacy  of  Prayer. 

other  cause  than  the  regular  establishment  of  as- 
semblies for  divine  worship  ;  in  which,  either  por- 
tions of  scripture  are  recited  and  explained,  or  the 
principles  of  Christian  erudition  are  so  constantly 
taught  in  sermons,  incorporated  with  liturgies,  or  ex» 
pressed  in  extempore  prayer,  as  to  imprint,  by  the 
very  repetition,  some  knowledge  and  memory  of  these 
subjects  upon  the  most  unqualified  and  careless  hearer. 
The  two  reasons,  above  stated,  bind  all  the  mem- 
bers of  a  community  to  uphold  public  worship  by 
their  presence  and  example,  although  the  helps  and 
opportunities  which  it  affords  may  not  be  necessary 
to  the  devotion  or  edification  of  all  ;  and  to  some 
may  be  useless  :  for  it  is  easily  foreseen,  how  soon 
religious  assemblies  would  fall  into  contempt  and 
disuse,  if  that  class  of  mankind,  who  are  above  seek- 
ing instruction  in  them,  and  want  not  that  their 
own  piety  should  be  assisted  by  either  forms  of  soci- 
ety in  devotion,  were  to  withdraw  their  attendance  ; 
especially  when  it  is  considered,  that  all  who  please 
are  at  liberty  to  rank  themselves  of  this  class.  This 
argument  meets  the  only  serious  apology  that^can 
be  made  for  the  absenting  of  ourselves  from  public 
worship.  "  Surely  (some  will  say)  I  may  be  excused 
from  going  to  church,  so  long  as  1  pray  at  home, 
and  have  no  reason  to  doubt  but  that  my  prayers 
are  as  acceptable  and  efficacious  in  my  closet,  as  in 
a  cathedral  ;  still  less  can  I  think  myself  obliged  to 
sit  out  a  tedious  sermon,  in  order  to  hear  what  is 
known  already,  what  is  better  learnt  from  books,  or 
suggested  by  meditation."  They,  whose  qualifications 
and  habits  best  supply  to  themselves  all  the  effect  of 
public  ordinances,  will  be  the  last  to  prefer  this  ex- 
cuse, when  they  advert  to  the  general  consequence  of  set- 
ting up  such  an  exemption,  as  well  as  when  they  con- 
sider  the  turn  which  is  sure  to  be  given  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood  to  their  absence  from  public  worship 
You  stay  from  church,  to  employ  the  sabbath  at  home 
in  exercises  and  studies  suited  to  its  proper  business  ; 
your'  next   neighbour  stays    from  church,  to  spend 


Duty  and  Efficacy  of  Prayer,  273 

the  seventh  day  less  religiously  than  he  passed  any 
of  the  six,  in  a  sleepy,  stupid  rest,  or  at  some  rendez- 
vous of  drunkenness  and  debauchery,  and  yet  thinks 
that  he  is  only  imitating  you,  because  you  both 
agree  in  not  going  to  church.  The  same  considera- 
tion should  overrule  many  small  scruples  concerning 
the  rigorous  propriety  of  some  things,  vi^hich  may  be 
contained  in  the  forms,  or  admitted  into  the  adminis- 
tration of  the  public  worship  of  our  communion  : 
for  it  jseems  impossible,  that  even  '*  two  or  three  should 
be  gathered  together,"  in  any  act  of  social  worship,  if 
each  one  require  from  the  rest  an  implicit  submission 
to  his  objections  ;  and  if  no  man  will  attend  upon  a 
religious  service,  which  in  any  point  contradicts  hiso- 
pinion  of  truth,  or  falls  short  of  his  ideas  of  perfection. 

Beside  the  direct  necessity  of  public  worship  to  the 
greater  part  of  every  Christian  community  (supposing 
worship  at  all  to  be  a  Christian  duty)  there  are  other 
valuable  advantages  growiiigout  of  the  use  of  religious 
assemblies,  without  being  designed  in  the  institution, 
or  thought  of  by  the  individuals  who  compose  them. 

i.  Joining  in  prayer  and  praises  to  their  common 
Creator  and  Governor  has  a  sensible  tendency  to 
unite  mankind  together,  and  to  cherish  and  enlarge 
the  generous  affections. 

So  many  pathetic  reflections  are  awakened  by  ev- 
ery exercise  of  social  devotion,  that  most  men,  I  be- 
lieve, carry  away  from  public  worship  a  better  tem- 
per towards  the  rest  of  mankind,  than  they  brought 
with  them.  Sprung  from  the  same  extraction,  pre- 
paring together  for  the  period  of  all  worldly  distinc- 
tions, reminded  of  their  mutual  infirmities  and  com- 
mon dependency,  imploring  and  receiving  support 
and  supplies  from  the  same  great  Source  of  power 
and  bounty,  having  all  one  interest  to  secure,  one 
Lord  to  serve,  one  judgment,  the  supreme  object  to 
all  of  their  hopes  and  fears,  to  look  towards,  it  is 
hardly  possible,  in  this  position,  to  behold  mankind 
as  strangers,  competitors,  or  enemies ;  or  not  to  re- 
gard  them  ap  children  of  the  same  family,  assembled 


274  Duty  and  Efficacy  of  Prayer. 

before  their  common  Parent,  and  with  some  portioii 
of  the  tenderness,  which  belongs  to  the  most  endear- 
ing of  our  domestic  relations.  It  is  not  to  be  expect- 
ed, that  any  single  eiFect  of  this  kind  should  be  con- 
siderable or  lasting  ;  but  the  frequent  return  of  such 
sentiments  as  the  presence  of  a  devout  congregation 
naturally  suggests,  will  gradually  melt  down  the  rug- 
gedness  of  many  unkind  passions,  and  may  generate 
in  time  a  permanent  and  productive  benevolence. 

2.  Assemblies  for  the  purpose  of  divine  worship, 
placing  men  under  impressions,  by  which  they  are 
taught  to  consider  their  relation  to  the  Deity,  and 
to  contemplate  those  around  them  with  a  view  to 
that  relation,  force  upon  their  thoughts  the  natural 
equality  of  the  human  species,  and  thereby  promote 
humility  and  condescension  in  the  highest  orders  of 
the  community,  and  inspire  the  lowest  with  a  sense 
of  their  rights.  The  distinctions  of  civil  life  are  al- 
most always  insisted  upon  too  much,  and  urged  too 
far.  Whatever  therefore  conduces  to  restore  the  lev- 
el, by  qualifying  the  dispositions  which  grow  out  of 
great  elevation  or  depression  of  rank,  improves  the 
character  on  both  sides.  Now  things  are  made  to 
appear  little,  by  being  placed  beside  what  is  great.  In 
which  manner,  superiorities,  that  occupy  the  whole 
field  of  the  imagination,  will  vanish,  or  shrink  to 
their  proper  diminutiveness,  when  compared  with 
the  distance  by  which  even  the  highest  of  men  are 
removed  from  the  Supreme  Being  :  and  this  com- 
parison is  naturally  introduced  by  all  acts  of  joint 
worship.  If  ever  the  poor  man  holds  up  his  head, 
it  is  at  church  :  if  ever  the  rich  man  views  him  with 
respect,  it  is  there  :  and  both  will  be  the  better,  and 
the  public  profited,  the  oftener  they  meet  in  a  situ- 
ation, in  which  the  consciousness  of  dignity  in  the 
one  is  tempered  and  mitigated,  and  the  spirit  of  the 
other  erected  and  confirmed.  We  recommend  noth- 
ing adverse  to  subordinations,  which  are  established 
and  necessary;  but  then  it  should  be  remembered, 
that  subordination  itself  is  an  evil,  being  an  evil  to  the 


Forms  of  Prayer  in  Public  Worship.  275 

subordinate,  who  are  the  majority,  and  therefore 
ought  not  to  be  carried  .a  tittle  beyond  what  the 
greater  good,  the  peaceable  government  of  the  com- 
munity, requires,  • 
The  pubiic_  worship  of  Christians  is  a  duty  of  di- 
vine appointment.  "  Where  two  or  three,"  says 
Christ,  "  are  gathered  together  in  my  name,  there 
am  I  in  the  midst  of  them."*  This  invitation  will 
want  nothing  of  the  force  of  a  command  with  those,  who 
respect  the  person  and  authority  from  which  it  pro- 
ceeds. Again,  in  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews^  "  not 
forsaking  the  assembling  of  ourselves  together,  as  the 
manner  of  some  is  ;"t  which  reproof  seems  as  appli- 
cable to  the  desertion  of  our  public  worship  at  this 
day,  as  to  the  forsaking  the  religious  assemblies  of 
Christians  in  the  age  of  the  Apostle.  Independently 
of  these  passages  of  scripture,  a  disciple  of  Christianity 
will  hardly  think  himself  at  liberty  to  dispute  a  prac- 
tice set  on  foot  by  the  inspired  preachers  of  his  relig- 
ion, coeval  with  its  institution,  and  retained  by  every 
sect  into  which  it  has  been  since  divided. 


CHAPTER  V. 
FORMS  OF  PRAYER  IN  PUBLIC  WORSHIP. 

i_,ITURGIES,  or  preconcerted  forms  of  public 
devotion,  being  neither  enjoined  in  scripture,  nor  for- 
bidden, there  can  be  no  good  reason  either  for  receiv- 
ing or  rejecting  them,  but  that  of  expediency  ;  which 
expediency  is  to  be  gathered  from  a  comparison  of 
the  advantages  and  disadvantages  attending  upon  this 
mode  of  worship,  with  those  which  usually  accom- 
pany extemporary  prayer. 

The  advantages  of  a  liturgy  are  these  : 

1.     That  it  prevents  absurd,  extravagant,  or  impi- 

ous  addresses  to  God,  which,  in  an  order  of  men  so 

numerous  as  the  sacerdotal,  the  folly  and  enthusiasm 

of  many   must  always  be   in  danger  of  producing, 

*  Matt,  xviii.  iO.  f  Heb.  x.  25. 


276  Forms  of  Prayer 

where  the  conduct  of  the  public  worship  is  entrusted, 
without  restraint  or  assistance,  to  the  discretion  and 
abilities  of  the  officiating  minister. 

2.  That  it  prevents  the  confusion  of  extemporary 
prayer,  in  which  the  congregation  being  ignorant  of 
each  petition  before  they  hear  it,  and  having  little 
or  no  time  to  join  in  it  after  they  have  heard  it,  are 
confounded  between  their  attention  to  the  minister, 
and  to  their  own  devotion.  The  devotion  of  the 
hearer  is  necessarily  suspended,  until  a  petition  be 
concluded  ;  and  before  he  can  assent  to  it,  or  prop- 
erly adopt  it,  that  is,  before  he  can  address  the  same 
request  to  God  for  himself,  his  attention  is  called  oft 
to  keep  pace  with  what  succeeds.  Add  to  this,  that 
the  mind  of  the  hearer  is  held  in  continual  expecta- 
tion, and  detained  from  its  proper  business  by  the 
very  novelty  with  which  it  is  gratified.  A  congre- 
gation may  be  pleased  and  affected  with  the  prayers 
and  devotion  of  their  minister,  without  joining  in 
them,  in  like  manner  as  an  audience  oftentimes  are 
with  the  representation  of  devotion  upon  the  stage, 
who,  nevertheless,  come  away  without  being  con- 
scious of  having  exercised  any  act  of  devotion  them- 
selves. Joint  prayer,  which  amongst  all  denomina- 
tions of  Christians  is  the  declared  design  of  "  com- 
ing together,"  is  prayer  in  which  they  ^dljoin  ;  and 
not  that  which  one  alone  in  the  congregation  con- 
ceives and  delivers,  and  of  which  the  rest  are  mere- 
ly hearers.  This  objection  seems  fundamental,  and 
holds  even  where  the  minister's  office  is  discharged 
with  every  possible  advantage  and  accomplishment. 
The  labouring  recollection  and  embarrassed  or  tu- 
multous delivery  of  many  extempore  speakers, 
form  an  additional  objection  to  this  mode  of  public 
worship  ;  for  these  imperfections  are  very  general, 
and  give  great  pain  to  the  serious  part  of  a  congre- 
gation, as  well  as  afford  a  profane  diversion  to  the 
levity  of  the  other  part. 

These  advantages  of  a  liturgy  are  connected  with 
two  principal  inconveniences  j   first,  that  forms  of 


in  Public  Worship,  21*1 

prayer  composed  in  one  age,  become  unfit  for  anoth- 
er, by  the  unavoidable  change  of  language,  circum- 
stances, and  opinions  ;  secondly,  that  the  perpetual 
repetition  of  the  same  form  of  words  produce  weari- 
ness and  inattentiveness  in  the  congregation.  How- 
ever, both  these  inconveniences  are,  in  their  nature, 
vincible.  Occasional  revisions  of  a  liturgy  may  ob- 
viate the  first ;  and  devotion  will  supply  a  remedy 
for  the  second  :  or  they  may  both  subsist  in  a  con- 
siderable degree,  and  yet  be  outweighed  by  the  objec- 
tions which  are  inseparable  from  extemporary  prayer. 

The  Lord's  prayer  is  a  precedent,  as  well  as  a 
pattern  for  forms  of  prayer.  Our  Lord  appears,  if 
not  to  have  prescribed,  at  least  to  have  authorized  the 
use  of  fixed  forms,  when  he  compiled  with  the  request 
of  the  disciple  who  said  unto  him, "  Lord,  teach  us  to 
pray,  as  John  also  taught  his  disciples.'*    Luke  xi.  1. 

The  properties  required  in  a  public  liturgy  are, 
that  it  be  compendious ;  that  it  express  iust  concep- 
tions of  the  divine  attributes;  that  it  recite  such  wants 
as  a  congregation  are  likely  to  feel,  and  no  other  ; 
and  that  it  contain  as  few  controverted  propositions 
as  possible. 

L     That  it  be  compendious. 

It  were  no  difficult  task  to  contract  the  liturgies 
of  most  churches  into  half  their  present  compass,  and 
yet  retain  every  distinct  petition,  as  well  as  the  sub- 
stance of  every  sentiment,  which  can  be  found  in 
them.  But  brevity  may  be  studied  too  much.  The 
composer  of  a  liturgy  must  not  sit  down  to  his  work 
with  a  hope,  that  the  devotion  of  the  congregation 
will  be  uniformly  sustained  throughout,  or  that  every 
part  will  be  attended  to  by  every  hearer.  If  thir. 
could  be  depended  upon,  a  very  short  service  would 
be  sufficient  for  every  purpose  that  can  be  answered 
or  designed  by  social  worship  :  but  seeing  the  atten- 
tion of  most  men  is  apt  to  wander  and  return  at  in- 
tervals, and  by  starts,  he  will  admit  a  certain  degree  of 
amplification  and  repetition,  of  diversity  of  expres- 
sion upon  the  same  subject,  and  variety  of  phrase  and 
form,    with  litde   addition   to    the  sense,    to  the  end 


278  Forms  of  Prayer 

that  the  attention  which  has  been  slumbering  orab-; 
sent  during  one  part  of  the  service,  may  be  excited 
and  recalled  by  another  ;  and  the  assembly  kept  to« 
gether  untif  it  may  reasonably  be  presumed,  that  the 
most  heedless  and  inadvertent  have  performed  some 
act  of  devotion,  and  the  most  desultory  attention 
been  caught  by  some  part  or  other  of  the  public  ser- 
vice. On  the  other  hand,  the  too  great  length  of 
church  services  is  more  unfavourable  to  piety,  than 
almost  any  fault  of  composition  can  be.  It  begets 
in  many  an  early  and  unconquerable  dislike  to  the 
public  worship  of  their  country  or  communion. 
They  come  to  church  seldom  ;  and  enter  the  doors 
when  they  do  come,  under  the  apprehension  of  a 
tedious  attendance,  which  they  prepare  for  at  first, 
or  soon  after  relieve,  by  composing  themselves  to  a 
drowsy  forgetfulness  to  the  place  and  duty,  or  by 
sending  abroad  their  thoughts  in  search  of  more 
amusing  occupation.  Although  there  may  be  some 
few  of  a  disposition  not  to  be  wearied  with  religious 
exercises,  yet  where  a  ritual  is  prolix,  and  the  cele- 
bration of  divine  service  long,  no  effect  is  in  general 
to  be  looked  for,  but  that  indolence  will  find  in  it 
an  excuse,  and  piety  be  disconcerted  by  impatience. 
The  length  and  repetitions,  complained  of  in  our 
liturgy,  are  not  so  much  the  fault  of  the  compilers 
as  the  effect  of  uniting  into  one  service,  what  was 
originally,  but  with  very  little  regard  to  the  con- 
veniency  of  the  people,  distributed  into  three.  Not- 
withstanding that  dread  of  innovations  in  religion, 
which  seems  to  have  become  the  panic  of  the  age, 
few,  I  should  suppOvSe,  would  be  displeased  with  such 
emissions,  abridgements,  or  change  in  the  arrange- 
ment, as  the  combination  of  separate  services  must 
necessarily  require,  even  supposing  each  to  have 
been  faultless  in  itself.  If,  together  with  these  alter- 
ations, the  Epistles  and  Gospels,  and  Collects  which 
precede  them,  were  composed  and  selected  with  more 
regard  to  unity  of  subject  and  design;  and  the  Psalms 
and  Lessons,  either  left  to  the  choice  of  the  minister, 
or  better  accommodated  to  the  capacity  of  the  audi' 


in  Public  Worship.  279 

ence,  and  the  edification  of  modern  life  ;  the  church 
of  England  would  be  in  possession  of  a  liturgy,  in 
which  those  who  assent  to  her  doctrines  would  have 
little  to  blame,  and  the  most  dissatisfied  must  ac- 
knowledge many  beauties.  The  stile  throughout 
is  excellent ;  calm,  without  coldness ;  and  though 
every  where  sedate,  oftentimes  affecting.  The  pauses 
in  the  service  are  disposed  at  proper  intervals.  The 
transitions  from  one  office  of  devotion  to  another, 
from  confession  to  prayer,  from  prayer  to  thanksgiv- 
ing, from  thanksgiving  to  "  hearing  of  the  word," 
are  contrived,  like  scenes  in  the  drama,  to  supply  the 
mind  with  a  succession  of  diversified  engagements. 
As  much  variety  is  introduced  also  in  the  form  of 
praying  as  this  kind  of  composition  seems  capable  of 
admitting.  The  prayer  at  one  time  is  continued  ;  a]t 
another,  broken  by  responses,  or  cast  into  short  al- 
ternate ejaculations ;  and  sometimes  the  congregation 
are  called  upon  to  take  their  share  in  the  service,  by 
being  left  to  complete  a  sentence  which  the  minister 
had  begun.  The  enumeration  of  human  wants  and 
sufferings  in  the  litany  is  almost  complete.  A  Chris* 
tian  petioner  can  have  few  things  to  ask  of  God,  or 
to  deprecate,  which  he  will  not  find  there  expressed. 
Mid.  for  the  most  part  with  inimitable  tenderness 
and  simplicity. 

II.  That  it  express  just  conceptions  of  the  divine 
attributes. 

This  is  an  article  in  which  no  care  cau  be  too 
great.  The  popular  notions  of  God  are  formed,  in 
a  great  measure,  from  the  accounts  which  the  peo- 
ple receive  of  his  nature  and  character  in  their  relig- 
ious assemblies.  An  error  here  becomes  the  error 
of  multitudes  :  and  as  it  is  a  subject  in  which  almost 
every  opinion  leads  the  way  to  some  practical  conse- 
quence, the  purity  or  depravation  of  public  manners 
will  be  affected,  amongst  other  causes,  by  the  truth 
or  corruption  of  the  public  forms  of  worship. 

III.  That  it  recite  such  wants  as  the  congregation 
are  likely  to  feci,  and  no  other 

M    M 


280  Forms  of  Prayer  in  Public  Worship. 

Of  forms  of  prayer,  which  offend  not  egreglouslyv 
against  truth  and  decency,  that  has  the  the  most  merit, 
which  is  best  calculated  to  keep  alive  the  devotion 
of  the  assembly.  It  were  to  be  wished,  therefore, 
that  every  part  of  a  liturgy  were  personally  applica- 
ble to  every  individual  in  the  congregation ;  and 
that  nothing  were  introduced  to  interrupt  the  pas- 
sion, or  damp  a  flame  which  it  is  not  easy  to  rekindle. 
Upon  this  principle,  the  state  prayers  in  our  liturgy 
should  be  fewer  and  shorter.  Whatever  may  be  pre- 
tended, the  congregation  do  not  feel  that  concern  in 
the  subject  of  these  prayers,  which  must  be  felt,  or 
ever  prayer  be  made  ro  God  with  earnestness.  The 
state  stile  likewise  -eems  unseasonably  introduced  into 
these  prayers,  as  ill  according  with  that  annihilation 
of  human  greatness,  of  which  every  act  that  carries 
the  mind  to  God  presents  the  idea. 

IV.  That  it  contain  as  few  controverted  proposi- 
tions as  possible. 

We  allow  to  each  church  the  truth  of  its  peculiar 
tenets,  and  all  the  importance  which  zeal  can  ascribe  to 
them.  We  dispute  not  here  the  right  or  the  expedi- 
ency of  framing  creeds  or  of  imposing  subscriptions. 
But  why  should  every  position  which  a  church  main- 
tains be  woven  with  so  much  industry  into  her  forms 
of  public  worship  ?  Some  are  offended,  and  some  are 
excluded  :  this  is  an  evil  in  itself,  at  least  to  them  . 
and  what  advantage  or  satisfaction  can  be  derived  to 
the  rest^  from  X)r^e  separation  of  their  brethren,  it  is 
difficult  to  imagine ;  unless  it  were  a  duty,  to  pub- 
lish our  system  of  polemic  divinity,  under  the  name 
of  maki'ig  confession  of  our  faith  every  time  we 
worship  G')d  ;  or  a  sin,  to  agree  in  religious  exer- 
cises with  those,  from  whom  we  differ  in  some  relig- 
ious opinions.  Indeed,  where  one  man  thinks  it  his 
duty  constantly  to  worship  a  being,  whom,  another 
cannot  with  the  assent  of  his  conscience^  permit  him- 
self to  worship  at  all,  there  seems  to  be  no  place  for 
comprehension,  or  any  expcditnt  left,  but  a  quiet 
succession.  All  other  dilferences  may  be  compromised' 


Sabbatical  Institutions  281 

'by  silenjce.  If  sects  and  schisms  be  an  evil,  they  are 
as  much  to  be  avoided  by  one  side  as  the  other.  If 
sectaries  are  blamed  for  taking  unnecessary  offence, 
established  churches  are  no  less  culpable  for  unneces- 
sarily giving  it :  they  are  bound  at  least  to  produce 
a  command,  or  a  reason  of  equivalent  utility,  for 
shutting  out  any  from  their  communion,  by  mixing 
with  divine  worship  doctrines,  which,  whether  true  or 
false,  are  unconnected,  in  their  nature,  with  devotion. 


CHAPTER  VL 

OF  THE   USE   OF    SABBATICAL   INSTITU- 
TIONS. 

An  assembly  cannot  be  collected,  unless  the 
time  of  assembling  be  fixed  and  known  before-hand  ; 
and  if  the  design  of  the  assembly  require  that  it  be 
held  frequently,  it  is  easiest  that  it  should  return  at 
stated  intervals.  This  produces  a  necessity  of  ap- 
propriating set  seasons  to  the  social  offices  of  religion. 
It  is  also  highly  convenient,  that  the  same  seasons  be 
observed  throughout  the  country,  that  all  may  be 
employed,  or  all  at  leisure  together  :  for,  if  the  re- 
cess from  worldly  occupation  be  not  general,  one 
man's  business  will  perpetually  interfere  with  anoth- 
er man's  devotion  ;  the  buyer  will  be  calling  at  the 
shop  when  the  seller  is  gone  to  church.  I'his  part^ 
therefore,  of  the  religious  distinction  of  seasons, 
namely,  a  general  intermission  of  labour  and  business 
during  times  previously  set  apart  for  the  exercise 
of  public  worship,  is  founded  in  the  reasons  which 
make  public  worship  itself  a  duty.  But  the  celebra- 
tion of  divine  service  never  occupies  the  whole  day. 
-What  remains,  therefore,  of  Sunday,  beside  the 
part  of  it  employed  at  church,  must  be  considered 
as  a  mere  rest  from  the  ordinary  occupations  of  civil 
life  ;  and  he  who  would  defend  the  institution,  as  it  is 
required  by  law  to  be  observed  in  Christian  countries, 
unless  he  can  produce  a  command  for  a  Christian 
sabbath,  must  point  o,ut  the  uses  of  it  in  that  view. 


282  The  Use  of 

First,  then,  that  interval  of  relaxation  which  Sun- 
day affords  to  the  laborious  part  of  mankind,  con- 
tributes greatly  to  the  comfort  and  satisfaction  of 
their  lives,  both  as  it  refreshes  them  for  the  time, 
and  as  it  relieves  their  six  days'  labour  by  the  pros- 
pect of  a  day  of  rest  always  approaching  ;  which  could 
not  be  said  of  casual  indulgences  of  leisure  and  rest, 
even  were  they  more  frequent  than  there  is  reason 
to  expect  they  would  be,  if  left  to  the  discretion  or 
humanity  of  interested  task-masters.  To  this  differ- 
ence it  may  be  added,  that  holidays,  which  come 
seldom  and  unexpected,  are  unprovided,  when  they 
do  come,  with  any  duty  or  employment  ;  and  the 
m?nner  of  spending  them  being  regulated  by  no  pub- 
lic decency  or  established  usage,  they  are  commonly 
consumed  in  rude,  if  not  criminal  pastimes,  in  stupid 
sloth  or  brutish  intemperance.  Whoever  considers 
how  much  sabbatical  institutions  conduce,  in  this  re- 
spect, to  the  happiness  and  civilization  of  the  labour- 
ing classes  of  mankind,  and  reflects  how  great  a  ma- 
jority of  the  human  species  these  classes  compose, 
will  acknowledge  the  utility,  whatever  he  may  be- 
lieve of  the  origin,  of  this  distinction;  and  will,  con- 
sequently, perceive  it  to  be  every  man's  duty  to  up- 
hold the  observation  of  Sunday,  when  once  establish- 
ed, let  the  establishment  have  proceeded  from  whom 
or  from  what  authority  it  will. 

Nor  is  there  any  thing  lost  to  the  community  by 
the  intermission  of  public  industry  one  day  in  the 
week.  For  in  countries  tolerably  advanced  in  popu- 
lation and  the  arts  of  civil  life,  there  is  always  enough 
of  human  labour,  and  to  spare.  The  difficulty  is  not 
so  much  to  procure,  as  to  employ  it.  The  addition 
of  the  seventh  day's  labour  to  that  of  the  other  six 
would  have  no  other  effect  than  to  reduce  the  price. 
The  labourer  himself,  who  deserved  and  suffered 
most  by  the  change,  would  gain  nothing. 

2.  Sunday,  by  suspending  many  public  diversions, 
and  the  ordinary  rotation  of  employment,  leaves  to 
men  of  all  ranks  and  professions  sufficient  leisure,  and 


Sabbatical  Institutions.  283 

not  more  than  what  is  sufficient,  both  for  the  exter- 
jial  offices  of  Christianity,  and  the  retired,  but  equal- 
ly necessary  duties  of  religious  meditation  and  inr- 
quiry.  It  is  true,  that  many  do  not  convert  their 
leisure  to  this  purpose  ;  but  it  is  of  moment,  and  is 
all  which  a  public  constitution  can  effect,  that  to  ev- 
ery one  be  allowed  the  opportunity. 

3.  They  whose  humanity  embraces  the  whole  sen- 
sitive creation,  will  esteem  it  no  inconsiderable  rec* 
ommendation  of  a  weekly  return  of  public  rest,  that 
it  affords  a  respite  to  the  toil  of  brutes.  Nor  can  we 
omit  to  recount  this  amongst  the  uses,  which  the  di- 
vine Founder  of  the  Jewish  sabbath  expressly  ap- 
pointed a  law  of  the  institution. 

We  admit,  that  none  of  these  reasons  show  why 
Sunday  should  be  preferred  to  any  other  day  in  the 
week,  or  one  day  in  seven  to  one  day  in  six  or  eight : 
but  these  points,^  which  in  their  nature  are  of  arbi- 
trary determination,  being  established  to  our  hands, 
our  obligation  applies  to  the  subsisting  e>tablishment, 
so  long  as  we  confess,  that  some  such  institution  is 
necessary,  and  are  neither  able,  nor  attempt  to  sub- 
stitute any  other  in  its  place. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

OF  THE  SCRIPTURE  ACCOUNT  OF  SABBAT- 
ICAL INSTITUTIONS. 

The  subject,  so  far  as  it  makes  any  part  of 
Christian  morality,  is  contained  in  two  questions : 

I.  Whether  the  command,  by  which  the  Jezvish 
sabbath  was  instituted,  extend  to  Christians  ? 

II.  Whether  any  new  command  was  delivered  by 
Christ ;  or  any  other  day  substituted  in  the  place  of 
the  Jewish  sabbath  by  the  authority  or  example  ot 
his  Apostles  ? 

In  treating  of  the  first  question,  it  will  be  necessary 
to  collect  the  accounts,  which  are  preserved  of  the 
institution  in  the  Jewish  history  j  for  the  seeing  these 


284  Scripture  Account  of 

accounts  together,  and  in  one  point  of  view,  will  be 
the  bec,t  preparation  for  the  discussing  or  judging  of 
any  arguments  on  one  side  or  the  other. 

In  the  second  chapter  of  Genesis,  the  historian  hav- 
ing concluded  his  account  of  the  six  days*  creation, 
proceeds  thus  :   "  And  on  the  seventh  day  God  end- 
ed his  work  which   he  had  made  ;  and  he  rested  on 
the  seventh  day  from  all  his  work  which  he  had  made  ; 
and  God  blessed  the  seventh  day,  and  sanctijied  it,  be- 
cause that  in  it  he  had  rested  from  all  his  work  which 
God  created  and  made."  After  this  we  hear  no  more 
of  the  sabbath,  or  of  the  seventh  day,  ae  in  any  manner 
distinguished   from  the    other   six,  until  the  history 
brings  us  down  to  the  sojourning  of  the  Jews  in  the 
wilderness,   when  the  following  remarkable  passage 
occurs.     Upon  the  complaint  of  the  people  for  want 
of  food,  God   was  pleased  to  provide  for  their  relief 
by  a  miraculous  supply  of  manna,  which  was  found 
every  morning  upon   the   ground  about  the  camp  ^ 
*'  and  they  gathered  it  every  morning,  every  man  ac- 
cording to  his  eating  ;  and  when  the  sun  waxed  hot, 
it  melted  :  and  it  came  to  pass,  that  on  the  sixth  day 
they  gathered  twice  as   much   bread,   two  omers  for 
one  man:  and  all  the  rulers  of  the  congregation  came 
and   told   Moses ;  and  he  said  unto  them,  this  is  that 
which  the  Lord  hath  said,  to-morrow   is  the  rest  of  the 
holy  sabbath  unto  the  Lord  ;   bake  that  which  ye   will 
bake  to-day,   and  seethe  that  ye  will  seethe,  and  that 
which  remaineth   over  lay  up  for   you,  to  be  kept 
until   the    morning  ;    and  they    laid    it  up  till   the 
morning,  as.    ,   oses  bade,  and  it  did  not  stink"  (as 
it  had  done  before,  when  some  of  them  left  it  till  the 
morning)  "  neither  was    there    any   worm  therein. 
And  Moses  said,  Eat  that  to  day ; /or  to-day  ii  a  sabbath 
unto  the  Lord ;  to-day  ye  shall  not  find  it  in  the  field. 
Six  days  ye  shall  gather  it,  but  on  the  seventh  day, 
which  is  the  sabbath,  in  it  there  shall  be  none.     And 
'it  came  to  pass  that  there  went  out  some  of  the  people 
i  on  the  seventh  day  for  to  gather,  and  they  found  none. 
'  And  the  Lord  said  unto  Moses,  how  long  refuse  ye  to 
^  keep  my  commandments  and  my  laws  ?  See,  for  that 


Sabbatical  Institutions,  285' 

ihe  Lord  hath  given  you  the  sabbath,  therefore  he  giveth 
you  on  the  sixth  day  the  bread  of  two  days  ;  abide 
ye  every  man  in  his  place  ;  let  no  man  go  out  of  his 
place  on  the  seventh  day  :  so  the  people  rested  on 
the  seventh  day."  Exodus  xv'i. 

Not  long  after  this,  the  sabbath,  as  is  well  known, 
was  established  with  great  solemnity  in  tli^e  fourth 
commandment. 

Now,  in  my  opinion,  the  transaction  in  the  wilder- 
ness, above  recited,  was  the  first  actual  institution  of 
the  sabbath.  For,  if  the  sabbath  had  been  instituted 
at  the  time  of  the  creation,  as  the  words  in  Genesis 
may  seem  at  first  sight  to  import,  and  if  it  had  been 
observed  all  along,  from  that  time  to  the  departure 
of  the  Jews  out  of  Egypt,  a  period  of  about  two 
thousand  five  hundred  years,  it  appears  unaccounta- 
ble, that  no  mention  of  it,  no  occasion  of  even  the  ob- 
scurest allusion  to  it,  should  occur  either  in  the  gene- 
ral history  of  the  world  before  the  call  of  Abraham, 
which  contains,  we  admit,  only  a  few  memoirs  of  its 
early  ages,  and  those  extremely  abridged ;  or,  which 
is  more  to  be  wondered  at,  in  that  of  the  lives  of  the 
three  first  Jewish  patriarchs,  which,  in  many  parts  of 
the  account,  is  sufficiently  circumstantial  and  domes- 
tic. Nor  is  there,  in  the  passage  above  quoted  from 
the  sixteenth  chapter  of  Exodus,  any  intimation  that 
the  sabbath,  then  appointed  to  be  observed,  was  only 
the  revival  of  an  ancient  institution,  which  had  been 
neglected,  forgotten,  or  su  pended  ;  nor  is  any  such 
neglect  imputed  either  to  the  inhabitants  of  the  old 
world,  or  to  any  part  of  the  family  of  Noah  ;  nor, 
lastly,  is  any  permission  recorded  to  dispense  with  the 
institution  during  the  captivity  of  the  Jews  in  Egypr^ 
or  on  any  other  public  emergency. 

The  passage  in  the  second  chapter  of  Genesis,  which 
creates  the  whole  controversy  upon  the  subject,  is  not 
inconsistent  with  this  opinion  ;  for  as  the  seventh  day 
was  erected  into  a  sabbath,  on  account  of  God's  resting 
upon  that  day  from  the  work  of  the  creation,  it  was 
natural  enough  for  the  historian,  when  he  had  related 
the  history  of  the  creation,  and  of  God's  ceasing  from 


'26G  Sa'ipture  Account  of 

it  on  the  seventh  day,  to  add,  "  and  God  blessed  th't 
seventh  day,  and  sanctified  it,  because  that  on  it  he 
had  rested  from  all  his  work  which  God  created  and 
made  ;'*  although  the  blessing  and  sanctification,  i.  e. 
the  religious  distinction  and  appropriation  of  that  day, 
were  not  actually  made  till  many  ages  afterwards. 
The  words  do  not  assert,  that  God  then  "blessed"  and 
*'  sanctified*'  the  seventh  day,  but  that  he  blessed  and 
sanctified  it  for  that  reason  ;  and  if  any  ask  why  the 
sabbath,  or  sanctification  of  the  seventh  day,  was  then 
mentioned,  if  it  was  not  then  appointed,  the  answer 
is  at  hand  ;  the  order  of  connexion,  and  not  of  time, 
introduced  the  mention  of  the  sabbath,  in  the  history 
of  the  subject  which  it  was  ordained  to  commemorate. 

This  interpretation  is  strongly  supported  by  a  pas- 
sage in  ihe  prophet  Ezekiel,  where  the  sabbath  is  plain- 
ly spoken  of  as  given,  and  what  else  can  that  mean, 
but  zs  first  instituted,  in  the  wilderness  ?  "  Wherefore 
I  caused  theiti  to  go  forth  out  of  the  land  of  Egypt, 
and  brought  them  into  the  wilderness  ;  and  I  gave 
them  my  statutes,  and  shewed  them  my  judgments, 
which  if  a  man  do,  he  shall  even  live  in  them  :  more- 
over also  I  gave  them  my  tabbaths,  to  be  a  sign  between 
me  and  them,  that  they  might  know  that  I  am  the 
Lord  that  sanctify  them.'*  Ezek.  xx.  10,  1 1,  12. 

Nehe?niah  also  recounts  the  promulgation  of  the  sab- 
batic law  amongst  the  transactions  in  the  wilderness ; 
which  supplies  another  considerable  argument  in  aid 
of  our  opinion  :  "  Moreover  thou  leddest  them  in  the 
day  by  a  cloudy  pillar,  and  in  the  night  by  a  pillar  of 
fire  to  give  them  light  in  the  way  wherein  they  should 
go.  Thou  camest  down  also  upon  Mount  Sinai,  and 
spaked  with  them  from  heaven,  and  gavest  them  right 
judgments  and  true  laws,  good  statutes  and  com- 
mandments, and  made  st  known  untothem  thy  holy  sabbath, 
and  commandest  them  precepts,  statutes  and  laws, 
by  the  hand  of  Moses  thy  servant,  and  gavest  them 
bread  from  heaven  for  their  hunger,  and  broughtest 
forth  water  for  them  out  of  the  rock."*  Neh.  ix.  12. 

*  From  the  mention  of  the  sabbath  in  so  close  a  connexion  with  the  descent 
of  God  upon  Monut  Sinai,  and  the  delivery  of  the  hw  from  thence,one  would 


Sabbatical  Imtituthnsk  2B7 

if  it  be  inquired,  what  duties  were  appointed  for 
the  Jewish  sabbath,  and  under  what  penalties  and  in 
what  manner  it  was  observed  amongst  the  ancient 
Jews ;  we  find  that,  by  the  fourth  commandment^, 
a  strict  cessation  from  work  was  enjoined,  not  onl  y- 
w'^oviJews  by  birth,  or  rehgious  profession,  but  upon 
all  who  resided  within  the  limits  of  the  Jewish  state ; 
that  the  same  was  to  be  permitted  to  their  slaves 
and  to  their  cattle  :  that  this  rest  was  not  to  be  vio- 
lated under  pain  of  death  :  "  Whosoever  doeth  any 
work  in  the  sabbath  day,  he  shall  surely  be  put  to 
death.*'  Ex.  xxxi.  15.  Beside  which  the  seventh  day 
was  to  be  solemnized  by  double  sacrifices  in  the  temple. 
"  And  on  the  sabbath  day  two  lambs  of  the  first  year 
without  spot,  and  two  tenth  deals  of  flour  for  a 
meat  offering,  mingled  with  oil,  and  the  drink  offer- 
ing thereof ;  this  is  the  burnt  offering  of  every  sab- 
bath beside  the  continual  burnt  offering  and  his 
drink  off: ring."  Numb,  xxviii.  9,  10.  Also  holy 
convocations^  which  mean,  we  presume,  assemblies  for 
the  purpose  of  pubhc  worship,  or  religious  instruc- 
tion, were  directed  to  be  held  on  the  sabbath  day  ^ 
"  the  seventh  day  is  a  sabbath  of  rest,  an  holy  con- 
vocation."    Lev.  xxiii.  3. 

And  accordingly  we  read,  that  the  sabbath  was  in 
fact  observed  among  the  Jews,  by  a  scrupulous  ab- 
stinence from  every  thing  which  by  any  possible  con. 
struction,  could  be  deemed  labour ;  as  from  dressing 
meat,  from  travelling  beyond  a  sabbath  day's  journey, 
or  about  a  single  mile.  In  the  Maccabean  wars,  they 
tjuffered  a  thousand  of  their  number  to  be  slain,  rath- 
er than  do  any  thing  in  their  own  defence  on  the 
sabbath  day.  In  the  final  siege  of  Jerusalem,  after 
they  had  so  far  overcome  their  scruples,  as  to  defend 
their  persons  when  attacked,  they  refused  any  opera- 
tion on  the  sabbath  day,  by  which  they  might  have 

I)e  inclined  to  believe,  that  Nehemlah  referred  solely  to  the  fourth  command- 
m.ent.  But  the  fourth  commandraent  certainly  did  not  first  make  knov/n 
th«  sabbath.  Ai:d  it  is  apparent  that  Nehemlah  observed  not  the  order  of 
events,  for  he  speaks  of  what  passed  upon  Mount  S'mai,  before  he  mentions 
the  miraculous  supplies  of  bread  and  water,  though  the  Jnus  did  no.t  arrive 
it  Mount  iS'.-'Vjr",  ril!  ^ome  time  after  both  these  miracles  were  wrought, 
N  N" 


268  Scripture  Account  of 

interrupted  the  enemy  in  filling  up  the  trench.  Af- 
ter the  establishment  of  .synagogues  (of  the  origin  of 
which  we  have  no  account)  it  was  the  custom  to  as- 
semble in  them  upon  the  sabbath  day,  for  the  purpose 
of  hearing  the  law  rehearsed  and  explained,  and  for 
the  exercise,  it  is  probable,  of  public  devotion.  "  For 
Moses  of  old  time  hath  in  every  city  them  that 
preach  him,  being  read  in  the  synagogues  e-very  suhbath 
day  J*  The  seventh  day  is  Saiurday  ;  and  agreeable 
to  the  Jewish  way  of  computing  the  day,  the  sabbath 
held  from  six  o'clock  on  the  Friday  evening,  to  six 

o'clock  on  Saturday  evening. These  observations 

being  premised,  we  approach  the  main  question. 
Whether  the  command,,  by  which  the  Jewish  sabbath 
was  instituted,  extend  to  us  ? 

If  the  divine  command  was  actually  delivered  at 
the  creation,  it  was  addressed,  no  doubt,  to  the  whole 
human  species  alike,  and  continues,  unless  repealed- 
by  some  subsequent  revelation,  binding  upon  all  who 
come  to  the  knowledge  of  it.  If  the  command  was 
published  for  the  first  time  in  the  wilderness,  then 
it  was  immediately  directed  to  the  Jewish  people 
alone  ;  and  something  farther,  either  in  the  subject, 
or  circumstances  of  the  comm.and,  will  be  necessary 
to  show,  that  it  was  designed  for  any  other.  It  is 
on  this  account,  that  the  question  concerning  the 
date  of  the  institution  was  first  to  be  considered. 
The  former  opinion  precludes  all  debate  about  the 
extent  of  the  obligation  :  the  letter  admits,  and 
prima  facie^  induces  a  belief,  that  the  sabbath  ought 
to  be  considered  as  part  of  the  peculiar  law  of  the 
Jewish  policy. 

Which  behef  receives  great  confirmation  from  the 
following  arguments  : 

The  sabbath  is  described  as  a  sign  between  God 
and  the  people  of  Israel  :  "  Wherefore  the  children 
of  Israel  shall  keep  the  sabbath,  to  observe  the  sab- 
bath throughouL  their  generations,  for  a  perpetual 
covenant ;  it  is  a  sign  befivcen  me  and  the  children  of 
Israel  forever.'*  Exod.  xxxi.  16,  17.  Again,  "And 
I  gave  them  my  statutes,  and  shewed  them  my  judg- 


Sabbatical  Insiitutiom,  2S9 

•ments,  which,  if  a  nian  do,  he  shall  even  live  in 
them  ;  moreover  also  I  gave  them  my  sabbaths  to  be  a 
sign  between  me  and  them,  that  they  might  know  that 
I  am  the  Lord  that  sanctify  them.'*  Ezek.  xx.  12. 
Now  it  does  not  seem  easy  to  understand  how  the 
sabbath  could  be  a  sign  between  God  and  the  people 
of  Israel,  unless  the  observance  of  it  was  peculiar  to 
that  people,  and  designed  to  be  so. 

The  distinction  of  the  sabbath  is,  in  its  nature,  as 
much  a  positive  ceremonial  institution,  as  that  of 
many  other  seasons  v^'hich  were  appointed  by  the  le- 
vitical  law  to  be  kept  holy,  and  to  be  observed  by  a 
strict  rest ;  as  the  first  and  seventh  days  of  unleaven- 
ed bread  ;  the  feast  of  pentecost  j  the  feast  of  taber- 
nacles ;  and  in  the  twenty-third  chapter  of  Exodus 
the  sabbath  and  these  are  recited  together. 

If  the  command  by  which  the  sabbath  was  institut- 
ed be  binding  upon  th^iChristians,  it  must  be  binding 
as  to  the  day,  the  duties,  and  the  penalty  ;  in  none 
of  which  it  is  received. 

The  observance  of  the  sabbath  was  not  one  of  the 
articles  enjoined  by  the  Apostles,  in  the  fifteenth 
chapter  of  Acts,  upon  them,  "  which,  from  among 
the  Gentiles,  Vv?ere  turned  unto  God." 

St.  Paul  evidently  appears  to  h we  considered  the 
sabbath  as  part  of  the  Jewish  ritual,  and  not  obligato- 
ry upon  Christians  as  such  :  "  Let  no  man  therefore 
judge  you  in  meat  or  in  drink,  or  in  respect  of  an 
holy  dayi  or  of  the  new  moon,  or  of  the  sabbath  days, 
which  are  a  shadow  of  things  to  come,  but  the  body 
is  of  Christ."     Col.  ii.  16,  17. 

I  am  aware  of  only  two  objections  which  can  be 
opposed  to  the  force  of  these  arguments  :  one  is, 
that  the  reason  assigned  in  the  fourth  command- 
ment for  hallowing  the  seventh  day,  viz.  "  because 
God  rested  on  the  seventh  day  from  the  work  of  the 
creation,"  is  a  reason  which  pertains  to  all  mankind  ; 
the  other,  that  the  command,  which  enjoins  the  ob- 
servance of  the  sabbath,  is  inserted  in  the  decaloc:ue, 
of  which  all  the  other  precepts  and  prohibitions  are 
of  moral  and  universal  obligation. 


290  Scripture  Account  of 

Upon  the  first  objection  it  may  be  remarked^ 
that  akhough  in  Exodus  the  commandment  is 
founded  upon  God's  rest  from  the  creation,  in  Deu- 
teronomy the  commandment  is  repeated  with  a  ref- 
erence to  a  different  event :  "  Six  days  shah  thou 
labour,  and  do  all  thy  work  ;  but  the  seventh  day 
is  the  sabbath  of  the  Lord  thy  God :  in  it  thou  shalt 
not  do  any  work,  thou,  nor  thy  son,  nor  thy  daugh- 
ter, nor  thy  man-servant,  nor  thy  maid-servant,  nor 
thine  ox,  nor  thine  ass,  nor  any  of  thy  cattle,  nor 
the  stranger  that  is  within  thy  gates ;  that  thy  man- 
servant and  thy  maid-servant  may  rest  as  well  as 
thou  ;  and  remember  that  thou  wast  a  servant  in 
the  land  of  Egypt,  and  that  the  Lord  thy  God 
brought  thee  out  thence,  through  a  mighty  hand, 
and  by  a  stretched  out  arm  ;  therefore^  the  Lord  thy 
God  commanded  thee  to  keep  the  sabbath  day."  It 
is  farther  observable,  that  God'S  rest  from  the  crea- 
tion is  proposed,  as  the  reason  of  the  institution, 
even  where  the  institution  itself  is  spoken  of  as  pecu- 
liar to  the  Jews  ; — "  Wherefore  the  children  of  Ls- 
rael  shall  keep  the  sabbath,  to  observe  the  sabbath 
throughout  their  generations,  for  a  perpetual  cove- 
nant :  it  is  a  sign  between  me  and  the  children  of 
Israel  forever  ;  for  m  six  days  the  Lord  made  heaven 
and  earth,  and  on  the  seventh  day  he  rested  and 
was  rcfrej^hed.'*  The  truth  is,  these  different  reasons 
were  assigned  to  account  for  different  circumstances 
in  the  command.  If  a  Jew  inquired,  why  the  sev- 
enth day  was  sanctified  rather  than  the  ^ixth  or  eighth, 
his  law  told  him,  because  God  rested  on  the  seventh 
day  from  the  creation.  If  he  asked ^  why  was  the 
same  rest  indulged  to  slaves^  his  law  bid  him  remem- 
ber, that  he  also  was  a  slave  in  the  land  of  Egypt  ; 
and,  "  that  the  Lord  his  God  brought  him  out 
thence."  In  this  view,  the  two  reasons  are  perfect- 
ly compatible  with  each  other,  and  with  a  third  end 
of  the  institution,  its  being  a  sign  between  pod  and 
the  people  of  Israel ;  but  in  this  view  they  deter- 
mine nothing  concerning  the  extent  of  the  obliga- 
tion.    If  the  reason  by  its  proper  energy  had  con- 


Sabbatical  Institutions.  "2.91 

Stituted  a  natural  obligation,  or  if  it  had  been  men- 
tioned with  a  view  to  the  extent  of  the  obHgation, 
we  should  submit  to  the  conclusion,  that  all  were 
comprehended  by  the  command,  who  are  concern- 
ed in  the  reason.  But  the  sabbatic  rest  being  a  duty 
which  results  from  the  ordination  and  authority  of 
a  positive  law,  the  reason  can  be  alleged  no  farther 
than  as  it  explains  the  design  of  the  Legislator  ;  and 
if  it  appear  to  be  recited  with  an  intentional  applica- 
tion to  one  part  of  the  law,  it  explams  his  design 
upon  no  other  ;  if  it  be  mentioned  merely  to  ac- 
count for  the  choice  of  the  day,  it  does  not  explain 
his  design  as  to  the  extent  of  the  obligation. 

With  respect  to  the  second  objection,  that  inas- 
much as  the  other  nine  commandments  are  confes- 
sedly of  moral  and  universal  obligation,  it  may  rea- 
sonably be  presumed  that  this  is  of  the  same  ; — we 
answer,  that  this  argument  will  have  less  weight, 
when  it  is  considered,  that  the  distinction  between 
positive  and  natural  duties,  like  other  distinctions  of 
modern  ethics,  was  unknown  to  the  simplicity  of 
ancient  language  ;  and  that  there  are  various  pas- 
sages in  scripture,  in  which  duties  of  a  political,  or 
ceremonial,  or  positive  nature,  and  confessedly  of 
partial  obligation,  are  enumerated,  and  without  any 
mark  of  discrimination,  along  with  others  which 
are  natural  and  universal.  Of  this  the  following  is 
an  incontestible  example :  "  But  if  a  man  be  just, 
and  do  that  which  is  lawful  and  right  ;  and  hath 
not  eaten  upon  the  mountains  ;  nor  hath  lifted  up 
his  eyes  to  the  idols  of  the  house  of  Israel :  neither 
hath  defiled  his  neighbour's  wife  ;  neither  hath  come 
near  to  a  mcmtriious  woman  ;  and  hath  not  oppressed 
any,  but  hath  restored  to  the  debtor  his  pledge ; 
hath  spoiled  none  by  violence  ;  hath  given  his  bread 
to  the  hungry,  and  hath  covered  the  naked  with  a 
garment ;  he  that  hath  \  not  given  upon  usury ^  neither 
hath  taken  any  increase ;  that  hath  withdrawn  his 
hand  from  iniquity  ;  hath  executed  true  judgment 
between  man  and  man ;  hath  walked  in  my  statutes ; 
and  hath   kept  my  judgments  to  deal  truly ;  he  is 


292  Scripture  Account  of 

just,  he  shall  surely  live,  saith  the  Lord  God."  Ezek. 
xviii.  5 — 9.  The  same  thing  may  be  observed  of 
the  apostolic  decree  recorded  in  the  fifteenth  chapter 
of  the  Acts. — "It  seemed  good  to  the  Holy  Ghost 
and  to  us,  to  lay  upon  you  no  greater  burden  than 
these  necessary  things  ;  that  ye  abstain  from  meats 
offered  to  idols,  and  from  blood,  and  from  things 
strangled,  and  from  fornication  :  from  which,  if  ye 
keep  yourselves,  ye  shall  do  well." 

II.  If  the  law  by  which  the  sabbath  was  instituted, 
was  a  law  only  to  the  Jews,  it  becomes  an  import- 
ant question  with  the  Christian  enquirer,  whether 
the  Founder  of  his  religion  deHvered  any  new  com- 
mand upon  the  subject ;  or,  if  that  should  not  ap- 
pear to  be  the  case,  whether  any  day  was  appropri- 
ated to  the  service  of  religion,  by  the  authority  or 
example  of  his  apostles  ? 

The  practice  of  holding  religious  assemblies  upoiii 
the  first  day  of  the  week,  was  so  early  and  universal 
in  the  christian  church,  that  it  carries  with  it  con- 
siderable proof  of  having  originated  from  some  pre- 
cept of  Christ,  or  of  his  Apostles,  though  none  such 
be  now  extant.  It  was  upon  the  fnt  day  of  the 
week  that  the  disciples  were  assembled,  when  Christ 
appeared  to  them  for  the  first  time  after  his  resurrec- 
tion ;  "  then  the  same  day  at  evening,  being  the  first 
day  of  the  week,  when  the  doors  were  shut,  where 
the  disciples  were  assembled,  for  fear  of  the  Jews, 
Came  Jesus  and  stood  in  the  midst  of  them."  John, 
XX.  19.  This,  for  any  thing  that  appears  in  the  ac- 
count, might,  as  to  the  day,  have  been  accidental : 
but  in  the  26th  verse  of  the  same  chapter  we  read,. 
"  that  after  eight  days,"  that  is,  on  the  fir:t  day  of 
the  week  following  "  again  the  disciples  were  within," 
which  secnd  meeting  upon  the  same  day  of  the 
week  looks  like  an  appointment  and  design  to  meet 
on  that  particular  day.  In  the  twentieth  chapter  of 
the  Acts  of  the  Apostles,  we  find  the  same  custom 
in  a  Christian  church  at  a  great  distance  from  Jeru- 
salem :  "  And  we  came  unto  them  to  Troas  in  five 
days,  where  we  abode  seven  days  j  and  upon  the  first 


Sabbatical  Institutions,  29S 

day  of  the  week,  when  the  disciples  came  together  to  break 
bread,  Paul  preached  unto  ihem.'*  Acts,  xx.  6,  7. 
The  manner  in  which  the  histori  m  mentions  the 
disciples  coming  together  to  break  bread  on  ihe^rst 
day  of  the  week,  shews,  I  think,  that  the  practice 
by  this  time  was  familiar  and  established.  St.  Paul 
to  the  Corinthians  writes  thus :  "  Concerning  the 
collection  for  the  saints,  as  I  have  given  order  to  the 
churches  of  Galatia,  even-  so  do  ye  ;  upon  the  first  day 
cf  the  week,  let  every  one  of  you  lay  by  him  in  store 
as  God  hath  prospered  him,  that  there  be  no  gath- 
erings when  I  come.**  1  Cor.  xvi.  1,2.  Which  di- 
rection affords  a  probable  proof,  that  i\\Q  first  day 
of  the  week  was  already  amongst  the  Christians, 
both  of  Corinth  and  Galatia,  distinguished  from  the 
rest,  by  some  religious  application  or  other.  At  the 
time  that  St.  John  wrote  the  book  of  his  revelation, 
the  fir.'t  day  of  the  week  had  obtained  the  name  of 
the  Lord's  day  :  "  I  was  in  the  spirit,  *'  says  he,  "  c?: 
the  Lord*s  day."  Rev.  i.  10.  Which  name,  and  St. 
John's  use  of  it,  sufficiently  denote  the  appropriation 
of  this  day  to  the  service  of  religion,  and  that  this 
appropriation  was  perfectly  known  to  the  churches 
of  Asia.  I  make  no  doubt  but  that  by  the  Lord's 
day  was  meant  the  first  dzy  of  the  week;  for  we 
find  no  footsteps  of  any  distinction  of  days,  which 
could  entitle  any  other  to  that  appellation.  The 
subsequent  history  of  Chrlnfanity  corresponds  with 
the  accounts  delivered  on  this  subject  in  scripture. 

It  will  be  remembered,  that  we  are  contending,  by 
these  proofs,  for  no  other  duty  upon  the  first  day  of 
the  week,  than  that  of  holding  and  frequenting  re- 
ligious assemblies.  A  cessation  upon  that  day  from 
labour  beyond  the  time  of  attendance  upon  public 
worship,  is  not  intimated  in  any  passage  of  the  New 
Testament,  nor  did  Christ  or  his  Apostles  deliver,  that 
we  know  of,  any  command  to  their  disciples  for  a 
discontinuance,  upon  that  day,  of  the  common  offi- 
ces of  their  professions.  A  reserve  which  none  will 
see  reason  to  wonder  at,  or  to  blame  as  a  defect  in  the 
institution,  who  consider  tjhat  in  the  primitive  con- 


294  Sabbatical  Institutions. 

dition  of  Christianity,  the  observation  of  a  new  sab- 
bath would  have  been  useless,  or  inconvenient,  or  im- 
practicable. During  Christ's  personal  ministry,  his 
religion  was  prea»ched  to  the  Jews  alone.  They  al- 
ready had  a  sabbath,  which,  as  citizens  and  subjects 
of  that  economy,  they  were  obliged  to  keep,  and  did 
keep.  It  was  not  therefore  probable  that  Christ 
would  enjoin  another  day  of  rest  in  conjunction  vi'ith 
this.  When  the  new  religion  came  forth  into  the 
Gentile  world,  converts  to  it  were,  for  the  most  part, 
made  from  those  classes  of  society,  who  have  not 
their  time  and  labour  at  their  own  disposal ;  and  it 
was  scarcely  to  be  expected,  that  unbelieving  masters 
and  magistrates,  and  they  who  directed  the  employ- 
ment of  others,  would  permit  their  slaves  and  la- 
bourers to  rest  from  their  work  every  seventh  day ; 
or  that  civil  government,  indeed,  would  have  sub- 
mitted to  the  loss  of  a  seventh  part  of  the  public  in- 
dustry, and  that  too  in  addition  to  the  numerous 
festivals  which  the  national  religions  indulged  to  the 
people :  at  least,  this  would  have  been  an  incum- 
brance which  might  have  greatly  retarded  the  re- 
ception of  Christianity  in  the  world.  In  reality,  the 
institution  of  a  weekly  sabbath  is  so  connected  with 
the  functions  of  civil  life,  and  requires  so  much  of 
the  concurrence  of  civil  laws  in  its  regulation  and 
support,  that  it  cannot,  perhaps,  properly  be  made 
the  ordinance  of  any  religion,  till  that  religion  be 
received  as  the  religion  of  the  state. 

The  opinion,  that  Christ  and  his  Apostles  meant 
to  retain  the  duties  of  the  Jewish  sabbath,  shifting  on- 
ly the  day  from  the  seventh  to  the  first,  seems  to  pre- 
vail without  sufficient  proof ;  nor  does  any  evidence 
remain  in  scripture  (ot  vi^hat,  however,  is  not  improb- 
able) that  the  first  day  of  the  week  was  thus  distin- 
guished in  commemoration  of  our  Lord's  resurrection. 

The  conclusion  from  the  whole  inquiry  (for  it  is 
our  business  to  follow  the  arguments  to  whatever 
probability  they  conduct  us)  is  this:  the asscmbli fig  upon 
the  first  day  of  the  week,  for  the  purpose  of  public 
worship  and  religious  instruction,  is  a  law  of  Chris- 


Violafion  of  the  Christian  SabbatL  29.^ 

tianlty,  of  divine  appointment ;  the  resting  on  that 
day  from  our  employments  longer  than  we  are  de- 
tained from  them  by  attendance  upon  these  assem- 
blies, is  to  Christians,  an  ordinance  of  human  insti- 
tution :  binding  nevertheless  upon  the  conscience  of 
every  individual  of  a  country  in  which  a  weekly 
sabbath  is  established,  for  the  sake  of  the  beneficial 
purposes  which  the  public  and  regular  observance  of 
it  promotes  ;  and  recommended  perhaps  in  some  de- 
gree to  the  divine  approbation,  by  the  resemblance 
It  bears  to  what  God  was  pleased  to  make  a  solemn 
part  of  the  law  which  he  delivered  to  the  people  of  Is- 
rael,  and  by  its  subserviency  to  many  of  the  same  uses. 


CHAPTER    VIIL 

BY  WHAT  ACTS  AND  OMISSIONS  THE  DUTY  OF 

THE  CHRISTIAN  SABBATH  IS  VIOLATED. 

oINCE  the  obligation  upon  Christians,  to  com- 
ply with  the  religious  observance  of  Sunday,  arises 
from  the  public  uses  of  the  institution,  and  the  au- 
thority of  the  apostolic  practice,  the  manner  of  observ- 
ing it  ought  to  be  that  which  best  fulfils  these  uses, 
and  conforms  the  nearest  to  this  practice. 
The  uses,  proposed  by  the  institution,  are  : 

1.  To  faciliate  attendance  upon  public  worship. 

2.  To  meliorate  the  condition  of  the  laborious  classes 
of  mankind,  by  regular  and  seasonable  returns  of  rest. 

S.  By  a  general  suspension  of  business  and  amuse- 
ment, to  invite  and  enable  persons  of  every  descrip- 
tion, to  apply  their  time  and  thoughts  to  subjects  ap- 
pertaining to  their  salvation. 

With  the  primitive  Christians  the  peculiar,  and 
probably  for  some  time  the  only  distinction  of  the 
first  day  of  the  week,  was  the  holding  of  religious  as- 
semblies upon  that  day.  We  learn,  however,  fron>the 
testimony  of  a  very  early  writer  amongst  them,  that 
they  also  reserved  the  day  for  religious  meditations. 
Unusquisque  «w^rw;72,saith  Irena^us,  sabbatizat  spiritual' 
iter^  meditatione  legis  gaudens,  opijicium  Dei  ad?nirans, 

o  o 


296  Violation  of  the  Christian  Sabbath, 

Wherefore  the  duty  of  the  day  is  violated  : 

1st.  By  all  such  employments  or  engagements,  as 
(though  diflfering  from  our  ordinary  occupations) 
hinder  our  attendance  upon  public  worship,  or  take 
up  so  much  of  our  time,  as  not  to  leave  a  sufficient 
part  of  the  day  at  leisure  for  religious  reflection  ;  as 
the  going  ot  journeys,  the  paying  or  receiving  of  vis- 
its which  engage  the  whole  day,  or  employing  the  time 
at  home  in  writing  letters,  settling  accounts,  or  in 
applying  ourselves  to  studi-s,  or  the  reading  of  books, 
which  bear  no  relation  to  the  business  of  religion. 

2dly.  By  unnecessary  encroachments  upon  the  rest 
and  Hberty  which  Sunday  ought  to  bring  to  the  in- 
ferior orders  of  the  community  ;  as  by  keeping  ser- 
vants on  that  day  confined  and  busied  in  preparations 
for  the  superfluous  elegancies  of  our  table,  or  dress. 

3dly.  By,  such  recreations  as  are  customarily  for- 
borne out  of  respect  to  the  day  ;  as  hunting,  shoot- 
ing, fishing,  public  diversions,  frequenting  taverns, 
playing  at  cards  or  dice. 

If  it  be  asked,  as  it  often  has  been,  wherein  consistj 
the  diflference  between  walking  out  with  your  stafi^, 
or  with  your  gun  ?  between  spending  the  evening  at 
home  or  in  a  tavern  ?  between  passing  the  Sunday 
afternoon  at  a  game  at  cards,  or  in  conversation  not 
more  edifying,  nor  always  so  moffensive  ? — To  these, 
and  to  the  same  question  under  a  variety  of  forms, 
and  in  a  multitude  of  similar  examples,  v/e  return 
the  following  answer  : — That  the  religious  observance 
of  Sunday,  if  it  ought  to  be  retained  at  all,  must  be 
upheld  by  some  public  and  visible  distinctions- — that 
d  jw  the  line  of  distinction  where  you  will,  many 
actions,  which  are  situated  on  the  confines  of  the  line, 
will  differ  very  little,  and  yet  lie  on  the  opposite  sides 
of  it — fhat  every  trespass  upon  that  reserve,  which 
pu*^!ic  decency  has  established,  breaks  down  rhe  fence, 
by  which  the  day  is  separated  to  the  service  of  relig- 
ion— that  it  is  unsafe  to  trifle  with  scruples  and  hab- 
its that  hive  a  beneficial  tendency,  although  founded 
merely  in  cu  toiij — that  these  liberties,  however  in- 
tended, will  certainly  be  considered  by  those  who  ob- 


Of  Reverencing  the  Deity,  297 

serve  them,  not  only  as  disrespectful  to  the  day  and 
institution,  but  as  proceeding  from  a  .secret  contempt 
of  the  Christian  faith— that  consequently  they  dimin- 
ish a  reverence  for  religion  in  others,  so  far  as  the  au- 
thority of  our  opinion,  or  the  efficacy  of  our  exam- 
ple reaches ;  or  rather,  so  far  as  either  will  serve  for 
an  excuse  of  negligence  to  those  who  are  glad  of  any 
— that  as  to  cards  and  dice,  which  put  in  their  claim 
to  be  considered  among  the  harmless  occupations 
of  a  vacant  hour,  it  may  be  observed,  that  few  find 
any  difficulty  in  refraining  from  play  on  Sunday,  ex- 
cept they  who  sit  down  to  it,  with  the  views  and  ea- 
gerness of  gamesters;  that^^^/zm^is  seldom  innocent — - 
that  the  anxiety  and  perturbations,  however,  which 
it  excites,  are  inconsistent  with  th<;  tranquility,  and 
frame  of  temper,  in  which  the  duties  and  thoughts 
of  religion  should  always  both  fmd,  and  leave  u^ — 
and  lastly,  we  shall  remark,  that  the  example  of  other 
countries,  where  the  same  or  greater  licen-e  is  allow- 
ed,  affiDrds  no  apology  for  irregularities  in  our  own  ; 
because  a  practice  which  is  tolerated  by  public  usage, 
neither  receives  the  same  construction,  nor  gives  the 
-same  offence,  as  where  it  is  censured  and  prohibited. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

OF  REVERENCING  THE  DEITY. 

In  many  persons,  a  seriousness,  and  sense  of 
.awe,  overspread  the  imagination,  whenever  the  idea« 
of  the  Supreme  Being  is  presented  to  their  thoughts.!' 
This  effect,  which  forms  a  considerable  security 
against  vice,  is  the  consequence  not  so  much  of  re- 
flection, as  of  habit ;  which  habit  being  generated 
by  the  external  expressions  of  reverence,  which  we  use 
ourselves,  or  observe  in  others,  may  be  destroyed  by 
causes  opposite  to  these,  and  especially  by  that  familiar 
levity  with  which  some  learn  to  speak  of  the  Deity, 
of  his  attributes,  providence,  revelations,  or  worship. 
God  hath  been  pleased,  no  matter  for  what  rea- 
S:Qn,  although  probably  for  this,,  to  forbid  the  yaisi 


'293  Of  Reverencing  the  Deity. 

mention  of  his  name — "  Thou  shalt  not  take  the 
name  of  the  Lord  thy  God  in  vain."  Now  the  men- 
tion is  'ixiin^  when  it  is  useless ;  and  it  is  useless, 
when  it  is,  neither  likely  nor  intended  to  serve  any 
good  purpose  ;  as  when  it  flows  from  the  lips  idle 
and  unmeaning,  or  is  applied  upon  occasions  incon- 
sistent with  any  consideration  of  religion  or  devo- 
tion, t£)  express  our  anger,  our  earnestness,  our  cour- 
age, or  our  mirth  ;  or  indeed,  when  it  is  used  at  all, 
except  in  acts  of  religion,  or  in  serious  and  season- 
ble  discourse  upon  religious  subjects. 

The  prohibition  of  the  third  commandment  is 
recognized  by  Christ,  in  his  sermon  upon  the  mount, 
which  sermon  adverts  to  none  but  the  moral  parts 
of  the  Jewish  law.  "  I  say  unto  you,  swear  not  at 
all;  but  let  your  communication  be  yea  yea.  nay 
nay  ;  for  whatsoever  is  more  than  these,  cometh 
of  evil."  The  Jews  probib^y  interpreted  the  prohi- 
bition as  restrained  to  the  name  Jehovah,  (he  name 
which  the  Deity  had  appointed  and  appropriated  to 
himself.  Exod.  vi.  3.  The  word>  of  '■  hrist  extend 
the  prohibition  beyond  the  name  of  God,  to  every 
thing  associated  with  the  idea.  "  Swear  not,  neither 
by  heaven,  for  it  is  God's  throne ;  nor  by  the  earth, 
for  it  is  his  footstool  ;  neither  by  Jerusalem,  for  it 
is  the  city  of  the  Great  King  "  Matt,  v  3,5. 

The  offence  of  profane  swearing  is  aggravated  by 
the  con>ideration,  that  in  //  duty  and  decency  are 
sacrificed  to  the  slenderest  of  temptations. '  Suppose 
f^e  habit,  either  from  affectation,  or  by  negligence 
and  inadvertency,  to  be  already  formed,  it  must  al- 
ways remain  within  the  power  of  the  most  ordinary 
resolution  to  correct  it,  and  it  cannot,  one  would 
think,  cost  a  great  deal  to  relinquish  the  pleasure 
and  honour  which  it  confers.  A  concern  for  duty 
is  in  fact  never  strong,  when  the  exertion,  requisite 
to  vanquish  a  habit  founded  in  no  antecedent  pro- 
pensity, is  thought  too  much  or  too  painful. 

A  contempt  of  positive  duties,  or  rather  of  those 
duties  from  which  the  reason  is  not  so  plain  as  the 
command,  indicates  a  disposition  upon  which  the 


Of  Reverencing  the  Deity  299 

^Authority  of  revelation  has  obtained  little  influence. 
This  remark  is  applicable  to  the  offence  of  profane 
swearing,  and  describes,  perhaps,  pretty  exactly,  the 
general  character  of  those  who  are  most  addicted  to  it. 

Mockery  and  ridicule,  when  exercised  upon  the 
scriptures,  or  even  upon  the  places,  persons,  and 
forms  set  apart  for  the  ministration  of  religion,  fall 
tvithin  the  mischief  of  the  law  vhich  forbids  the 
profanation  of  God*s  name  ;  especially  as  that  law  is 
extended  by  Christ's  interpretation.  They  are,  more- 
over, inconsistent  with  a  religious  frame  of  mind  : 
for,  as  no  one  ever  either  feels  himself  disposed 
to  pleasantry,  or  capable  of  being  diverted  with 
the  pleasantry  of  others,  upon  matters  in  v/hich 
he  is  deeply  interested  ;  so  a  mind,  intent  upon  the 
acquisition  of  heaven,  rejects  with  indignation,  eve- 
ry attempt  to  entertain  it  with  jests,  calculated  to 
degrade  or  deride  eubjects,  which  it  never  recollects 
but  with  seriou  ness  and  anxiety.  Nothing  but  stu- 
pidity, or  the  most  frivolous  dissipation  of  thought, 
can  make  even  the  inconsiderate  forget  the  supreme 
importance  of  every  thing  which  relates  to  the  ex- 
pectation of  a  future  existence.  "Whilst  the  infidel 
mocks  at  the  superstitions  of  the  vulgar,  insults 
over  their  credulous  fears,  their  childish  errors,  or 
fantastic  rites,  it  does  not  occur  to  him  to  observe, 
that  the  most  preposterous  detice  by  which  the  weak- 
est devotee  ever  believed  he  was  securing  the  happi- 
ness of  a  future  life,  is  more  rational  than  unconcern 
about  it.  Upon  this  subject  nothing  is  so  absurd,  as 
indifference — no  folly  so  contemptible,  as  thought- 
lessness and  levity. 

Finally,  the  knowledge  of  what  is  due  to  the  so- 
lemnity of  those  interests,  concerning  which  revela* 
tion  professes  to  inform  and  direct  us,  may  teach  ev- 
en those  who  are  least  inclined  to  respect  the  preju- 
dices of  mankind,  to  observe  a  decorum  in  the  style 
and  conduct  of  religious  disquisitions,  with  the  neg- 
lect of  which,  many  adversaries  of  Christianity  are 
justly  chaiTgeable.  Serious  arguments  are  fair  on  all 
sides»     Christianity  is  but  ill   defended  by  refusing 


300  Of  Reverencing  the  Deity. 

audience  or  toleration  to  the  objections  of  unbeliev- 
ers. But  whilst  we  would  have  freedom  of  inquiry 
restrained  by  no  laws,  but  those  of  decency,  we  are  en- 
titled to  demand  on  behalf  of  a  religion,  which  holds 
forth  to  mankind  assurances  of  immortality,  that 
its  credit  be  assailed  by  no  other  weapons  than  those 
of  sober  discussion  and  legitimate  reasoning — that 
the  truth  or  falsehood  of  Christianity  be  never  made 
a  topic  of  raillery,  a  theme  for  the  exercise  of  wit  or 
eloquence,  or  a  subject  of  contention  for  literary  fame 
and  victory;  that  the  cause  be  tried  upon  its  merits — 
that  all  applications  to  the  fancy,  passions  or  prejudi- 
ces of  the  reader,  all  attempts  to  pre-occupy,  ensnare, 
or  perplex  his  judgment,  by  any  art,  influence,  or 
impression  whatsoever,  extrinsic  to  the  proper 
grounds  and  evidence  upon  which  his  assent  ought 
to  proceed,  be  rejected  from  a  question  which  involves 
in  its  determination,  the  hopes,  the  virtue,  and  the 
repose  of  millions — -that  the  controversy  be  managed 
on  both  sides  with  sincerity,  that  is,  that  nothing  be 
produced  in  the  writings  of  either,  contrary  to,  or 
beyond,  the  writer's  own  knowledge  and  persuasion 
— that  objections  and  difficulties  be  proposed  from  no 
other  motives,  than  an  honest  and  serious  desire  to 
obtain  satisfaction,  or  to  communicate  information 
which  may  promote  the  discovery  and  progress  of 
truth  ;  that  in  conformity  with  this  design,  every 
thing  be  stated  with  integrity,  with  method,  precision, 
and  simplicity  ;  and,  above  all,  that  whatever  is  pub- 
lished in  opposition  to  received  and  confessedly  bene- 
ficial persuasions,  be  set  forth  under  a  form,  which  is 
Jikely  to  invite  inquiry  and  to  meet  examination.  If, 
with  these  moderate  and  equitable  conditions,  be  com- 
pared the  manner  in  which  hostilities  have  been  wa- 
ged against  the  Christian  religion,  not  only  the  vota- 
ries of  the  prevailing  faith,  but  every  man  who  looks 
forward  with  anxiety  to  the  destiqation  of  his  being, 
will  see  much  to  blame,  and  to  complain  of.  By  one 
unbeliever,  all  the  follies  which  have  adhered,  in  a 
long  course  of  dark  and  superstitious  ages,  to  the 
popular  creed,  are  assumed  as  so  jnany  doctrines  of 


Of  Reverencing  the  Deity,  301 

Christ  and  his  Apostles,  for  the  purpose  of  subvert- 
ing the  whole  system,  by  the  absurdities,  which  it  is 
t'hiis  represented  to  contain.  By  another,  the  igno- 
rance and  vices  of  the  sacerdotal  order,  their  mutu- 
al dissensions  and  persecutions,  their  usurpations  and 
enchroachments  upon  the  intellectual  liberty  and  civil 
rights  of  mankind,  have  been  displayed  with  no 
small  triumph  and  invective,  not  so  much  to  guard  the 
Christian  laity  against  a  repetition  of  the  sameinjuries, 
which  is  the  only  proper  use  to  be  made  of  the  most 
flagrant  examples  of  the  past,  as  to  prepare  the  way 
for  an  insinuation,  that  the  religion  itself  is  nothing 
but  a  profitable  fable,  imposed  upon  the  fears  and 
credulity  of  the  multitude,  and  upheld  by  the  frauds 
and  influence  of  an  interested  and  crafty  priesthood. 
And  yet  how  remotely  is  the  character  of  the  clergy 
connected  with  the  truth  of  Christianity  ?  What,  af- 
ter all,  do  the  most  disgraceful  pages  of  ecclesiastical 
history  prove,  but  that  the  passions  of  our  common 
nature  are  not  altered  or  excluded  by  distinctions 
of  name,  and  that  the  characters  of  men  are 
formed  much  more  by  the  temptations  than  the  du- 
ties of  their  profession  ?  A  third  finds  delight  in  col- 
lecting and  repeating  accounts  of  wars  and  massa- 
cres, of  tumults  and  insurrections,  excited  in  almost 
every  age  of  the  Christian  era  by  religious  zeal ;  as 
though  the  vices  of  Christia#  were  parts  of  Chris- 
tianity ;  intolerance  and  extirpation  precepts  of  the 
gospel  ;  or  as  if  its  spirit  could  be  judged  of,  from, 
the  councils  of  princes,  the  intrigues  of  statesmen^, 
the  pretences  of  malice  and  ambition,  or  the  unau- 
thorized cruelties  of  some  gloomy  and  virulent  su- 
perstition. By  a  fourth,  the  succession  and  variety 
of  popular  religions ;  the  vicisitudes  with  which 
sects  and  tenets  have  flourished  and  decayed  j  the 
zeal  with  which  they  were  once  supported,  the  neg« 
ligence  with  which  they  are  now  remembered  ;  the 
little  share  which  reason  and  argument  appear  to 
have  had  in  framing  the  creed,  or  regulating  the 
religious  conduct  of  the  multitude  ;  the  indifference 
and  submission  with  which  the  religion  of  the  state 


302  Of  Revereyichig  the  De'iip 

is  generally  received  by  the  common  people ;  the 
caprice  and  vehemence  with  v^hich  it  is  sometimes 
opposed ;  the  frenzy  vi'ith  which  men  have  been 
brought  to  contend  for  opinions  and  ceremonies,  of 
which  they  knew  neither  the  proof,  the  meaning 
nor  the  original ;  lastly,  the  equal  and  undoubting 
confidence  with  which  we  hear  the  doctrines  of 
Christ  or  of  Confucius,  the  law  of  Moses  or  of  Ma- 
homet, the  Bible,  the  Koran,  or  the  Shaster,  main- 
tained or  anathematized,  taught  or  abjured,  revered 
or  derided,  according  as  we  live  on  this,  or  on  thaf 
.side  of  a  river  ;  keep  within,  or  step  over  the  boun- 
daries of  a  state;  or  even  in  the  same  country,  and 
by  the  same  people,  so  often  as  the  event  of  a  battle, 
or  the  issue  of  a  negociation  delivers  them  to  the 
dominion  of  a  new  master  :  Points,  I  say,  of  this 
sort  are  exhibited  to  the  public  attention,  as  so  many 
arguments  against  the  truth  of  the  Christian  religion 
■—and  with  success.  For  these  topics,  being  brought 
together,  and  set  off  with  some  aggravation  of  cir- 
cumstances, and  with  a  vivacity  of  style-  and  descrip^ 
tion,  familiar  enough  to  the  writings  and  conversa- 
tion of  free-thinkers,  Insensibly  lead  the  imagination 
into  a  habit  of  classing  Christianity  with  the  de- 
lusions, that  have  taken  possession,  by  turns,  of  the 
public  belief ;  and  of  regarding  it,  as  what  the  scof- 
fers of  our  faith  reprefent  it  to  be,  the  superstitiofz  of 
th'e  day.  But  is  this  to  deal  honestly  by  the  subject, 
or  with  the  world  ?  May  not  the  same  things  be 
said,  may  not  the  same  prejudices  be  excited  by  these 
representations,  whether  Christianity  be  true  or 
false,  or  by  whatever  proofs  its  truth  be  attested  ? 
May  not  truth  as  well  as  falsehood  be  taken  upon 
t?redit  ?  May  not  a  religion  be  founded  upon  evi- 
dence, accessible  and  satisflictory  to  every  mind  com- 
petent to  the  inquiry,  which  yet,  by  the  greatest 
part  of  its  professors,  is  received  upon  authority  ? 

But  if  the  matter  of  these  objections  be  reprehen- 
sible, as  calculated  to  produce  an  effect  upon  the 
reader,  beyond  what  their  real  weight  and  place  in 
the  argument  deserve,  still  more  shall  we  discover  of 


Of  Reverencing  the  Deity,  303 

management  and  disingenuousness  in  the  form  under 
which  they  are  dispersed  among  the  public.     Infidelity 
is  served  up  in  every  shape,  that  is  hkely  to  allure,  sur- 
prise, or  beguile  the  imagination  ;  in  a  fable,  a  tale,  a 
novel,  a  poem  j  in  interspersed  and  broken  hints,  re- 
mote and  oblique  surmises ;  in  books  of  travels,  of  phi^ 
losophy,  of  natural  history  ;  in  a  word,  in  any  form, 
ratherthanthe  right  one,that  of  a  professed  and  regular 
disquisition.     And  because  the  coarse  buffoonery,  and 
broad  laugh  of  the  old  and  rude  adversaries  of  the 
Christian  faith,  would  offend  the  taste,  perhaps,  rather 
than  the  virtue  of  this  cultivated  age,  a  graver  irony,  a 
more  skilful  and  delicate  banter  is  substituted  in  their 
place.     An  eloquent  historian,  beside  his  more  direct, 
and  therefore  fairer  attacks  upon  the  credibility  of  the 
evangelic  story,  has  contrived  to  weave  into  his  narra- 
tion one  continued  ^neer  upon  the  cause  of  Christianity, 
and  upon  the  writings  and  characters  of  its  ancient  pat- 
rons. The  knowledge  which  this  author  possesses  of  the 
frame  and  conduct  of  the  human  mind,  must  have  led 
him  to  observe,  that  such  attacks  do  their  execution 
without  inquiry.     Who  can  refute  a  sneer  ?  Who  can 
compute  the  number,much  less,  one  by  one, scrutinize 
the  justice  of  those  disparaging  insinuations,  which 
crowd  the  pages  of  this  elaborate  history?  What  reader 
suspends  his  curiosity,  or  calls^  off  his  attention  from  the 
principal  narrative,  to  examinft  references,  to  search  in- 
to the  foundation, or  to  weigh  the  reason,  propriety  and 
force  of  every  transient  sarcasm,  and  sly  allusion,  by 
which  the  Christian  testimony  is  depreciated  and  tra- 
duced ?    and  by  which,   nevertheless,   he   may  find 
his  persuasion  afterwards  unsettled  and  perplexed  ? 

But  the  enemiesof  Christianity  have  pursued  her  with 
poisoned  arrows.  Obscenity  itself  is  made  the  vehicle  of 
infidelity.  The  awful  doctrines,  if  we  be  not  permitted 
to  call  them  the  sacred  truths,  of  our  religion,  together 
with  all  the  adjuncts  and  appendages  of  its  worship  and 
external  profession,  have  been  sometimes  impudently 
profaned  by  an  unnatural  conjunction  with  impure  and 
lascivious  images.  The  fondness  for  ridicule  is  almost 
universal;  and  ridicule, to  many  minds, is  never  so  i.rr<s« 

P    F 


304  Of  Reverencing  the  Deity. 

sistible,as  when  seasoned  with  obscenity,  and  employed 
upon  religion.  But  in  proportion  as  these  noxious  prin- 
ciples take  hold  of  the  imagination,  they  infatuate  the 
judgment;  for  trains  of  ludicrous  and  unchaste  associa- 
tions, adhering  to  every  sentiment  and  mention  of  reli- 
gion, render  the  mind  indisposed  to  receive  either  con- 
viction from  its  evidence,  or  impressions  from  its  au- 
thority. And  this  effect,  being  exerted  upon  the  sensi- 
tive part  of  our  frame,  is  altogether  independent  of  ar- 
gument, proof,  or  reason  ;  is  as  formidable  to  a  true 
religion,  as  to  a  false  one  ;  to  a  well  grounded  faith,  as 
to  a  chimerical  mythology^  or  fabulous  tradition. 
Neither,  let  it  be  observed,  is  the  crime  or  danger  less, 
because  impure  ideas  are  exhibited  under  a  veil,  in 
covert  and  chastized  language. 

Seriousness  is  not  constraint  of  thought ;  nor  levity, 
freedom.  Every  mind  which  wishes  the  advancement 
of  truth  and  knowledge,  in  the  most  important  of  all  hu- 
man researches, must  abhor  this  licentiousness,  as  viola- 
ting no  less  the  laws  of  reasoning,  than  the  rights  of  de- 
cency. There  is  but  one  description  of  men,  to  whose 
principles  it  ought  to  be  tolerable,  I  mean  that  class  of 
reasoners,  who  can  seeliitkin  Christianity, even  suppos- 
ing it  to  be  true.  To  such  adversaries  v/e  address  this  re- 
flection— Had  Jesus  Christ  delivered  no  other  declara- 
tion than  the  following  :  "  The  hour  is  coming,  in  the 
which  all  that  are  in  th^rave  shall  hear  his  voice,  and 
shall  come  forth  ;  they  that  have  done  good,  unto  the 
resurrection  of  life,  and  they  that  have  done  evil,  unto 
the  resurrection  of  damnation  ;"  he  had  pronounced  a 
message  of  inci^timable  importance,  and  v/ell  worthy  of 
that  splendid  apparatus  of  prophecy  and  miracles,  with 
which  his  mission  was  introduced  and  attested  ;  a  mes- 
sage, in  which  the  wisest  of  mankind  would  rejoice  to 
find  an  answer  to  their  doubts,  and  rest  to  their  inqui- 
ries. It  is  idle  to  say,  that  a  future  state  had  b-  en  dis- 
covered ah\  ady — Ir  had  been  discovered,  as  the  Coper- 
nican  system  was — it  was  one  guess  among  many.  He 
alone  discovers,  who  proves  :  and  no  man  can  prove 
this  point,  but  the  teacher  who  testifies  by  miracles 
that  his  doctrine  comes  from  God. 


BOOK  VI. 

.Elements  of  Political  Kjiowleche. 


CHAPTER    I. 

OF  THE  ORIGIN  OF  CIVIL  GOVERNMENT. 

Government,  at  first,  was  either  patri- 
archal or  military  :  that  of  a  parent  over  his  family, 
or  of  a  commander  over  his  fellow  warriors. 

I.     Paternal  authority,  and  the  order  of  domestic 
life,  supplied  the  io\\n<i'3iXionoi  civil govermnent.     Did 
mankind  spring  out  of  the  earth   mature  and  inde- 
pendent, it  would  be  found  perhaps  impossible  to  in- 
troduce subjection  and  subordination  among  them ; 
but  the  condition   of  human  infancy  prepares  men 
for  society,  by  combining  individuals  into  small  com- 
munities, and  by  placing  them,  from  the  beginning, 
under  direction  and  control.     A  family   contains  the 
rudiments  of  an  empire.     The  authority  of  one  over 
many,  and  the  disposition  to  govern  and  to  be  gov- 
erned, are  in  this  way  incidental,  to  the  very  nature, 
and  coeval,  no  doubt,  with  the  existence  of  the  hu- 
man species.     Moreover,    the  constitution    of  fami- 
lies not   only   assists  the   formation  of  civil  govern- 
ment, by   the  dispositions   which  it  generates,   but 
also    furnishes    the    first    steps    of  the  process    by 
which  empires  have  been  actually  reared.     A  parent 
would  retain  a  considerable  part  of  his  authority  af- 
ter his   children    had  grown   up,    and  had  formed 
families  of  their   own.      The  obedience,   of  which 
they  remembered  not  the  beginning,  would  be  con- 
sidered as  natural ;  and  would  scarcely,  during  the 
parent's  life,    be  entirely    or  abruptly    withdrawn. 
Here  then  we  see  the  second  stage  in  the  progress  of 


306  Origin  of  Civil  Go'vermnent, 

dominion.  The  first  was,  that  of  a  parent  over  his 
young  children :  this  that  of  an  ancestor  presiding 
over  his  adult  descendants. 

Although  the  original  progenitor  was  the  centre 
of  the  union  to  his  posterity,  yet  it  is  not  probable 
that  the  association  would  be  immediately  or  alto- 
gether dissolved  by  his  death.  Connected  by  habits 
of  intercourse  and  affection,  and  by  some  common 
rights,  necessities  and  interests,  they  would  consider 
themselves  as  allied  to  each  other  in  a  nearer  degree 
than  to  the  rest  of  the  species.  Almost  all  would 
be  sensible  of  an  inclination  to  continue  in  the  socie- 
ty in  which  they  had  been  brought  up  ;  and  experi- 
encing, as  they  soon  would  do,  many  inconveniences 
from  the  absence  of  that  authority  which  their  com- 
mon ancestor  exer<  ised,  especially  in  deciding  their 
disputes,  and  directing  their  operations  in  matters 
in  which  it  was  necessary  to  act  in  conjunction,  they 
might  be  induced  to  supply  his  place  by  a  formal 
choice  of  a  successor,  or  rather  might  willingly,  and 
almost  imperceptibly  transfer  their  obedience  to  some 
one  of  the  family,  who,  by  his  age  or  services,  or  by 
the  part  he  possessed  in  the  direction  of  their  affairs 
during  the  life-time  of  the  parent,  had  already  taught 
them  to  respect  his  advice,  or  to  attend  to  his  com- 
mands ;  or  lastly,  the  prospect  of  these  inconvenien- 
ces might  prompt  the  first  ancestor  to  appoint  a  suc- 
cessor, and  his  posterity,  from  the  same  motive,  unit- 
ed with  an  habitupl  deference  to  the  ancestor's  au- 
thority, might  receive  the  appointment  with  sub- 
mission. Here  then  we  have  a  tribe  or  clan  incorpo- 
rated under  one  chief.  Such  communities  might 
be  increased  by  considerable  numbers,  and  fulfil 
the  purposes  of  civil  union  without  any  other  or 
more  regular  convention,  constitution,  or  form  of 
government,  than  what  we  have  described.  Every 
branch  which  was  slipped  off  from  the  primitive 
stock,  and  removed  to  a  distance  from  it,  would  in 
like  manner  take  root,  and  grow  into  a  separate 
clan.  Two  or  three  of  these  clans  were  frequently, 
we  may  suppose,  united  into  one.     Marriage,  con- 


Origin  of  Civil  Government.  307 

quest,  mutual  defence,  common  distress,  or  more  ac- 
cidental coalitions,  might  produce  this  effect. 

II.  A  second  source  of  personal  authority,  and 
which  might  easily  extend,  or  sometimes  perhaps  su- 
persede, the  patriarchal,  is  that,  which  results  from 
military  arrangement.  In  wars,  either  of  aggression 
or  defence,  manifest  necessity  would  prompt  those 
who  fought  on  the  same  side  to  array  themselves  un- 
der one  leader.  And  although  their  leader  was  ad- 
vanced to  this  eminence  for  the  purpose  only,  and 
during  the  operations  of  a  single  expedition,  yet  his 
authority  would  not  always  terminate  with  the  rea- 
sons for  which  it  was  conferred.  A  warrior  who 
hath  led  forth  his  tribe  against  their  enemies  with  re- 
peated success,  would  procure  to  himself,  even  in  the 
deliberations  of  peace,  a  powerful  and  permanent  in- 
fluence. If  this  advantage  were  added  to  the  author- 
ity of  the  patriarchal  chief,  or  favoured  by  any  pre- 
vious distinction  of  ancestry,  it  would  be  no  difficult 
undertaking  for  the  person  who  posse.^sed  it  to  ob- 
tain the  almost  absolute  direction  of  the  affairs  of  the 
community,  especially  if  he  was  careful  to  associate 
to  himself  proper  auxiliaries,  and  content  to  practise 
the  obvious -art  of  gratifying  or  removing  those  who 
opposed  his  pretensions. 

But,  although  we  may  be  able  to  comprehend  how 
by  his  personal  abilities  or  fortune  one  man  may  ob- 
tain the  rule  over  many,  yet  it  seems  more  difficult 
to  explain  how  empire  became  hereditary,  or  in  what 
manner  sovereign  power,  which  is  never  acquired 
without  great  merit  or  management,  learns  to  de- 
scend in  a  succession,  which  has  no  dependence  upon 
any  qualities,  either  of  understanding,  or  activity. 
The  causes  which  have  introduced  hereditary  do= 
minion  into  so  general  a  reception  in  the  world,  are 
principally  the  following — the  influence  of  association, 
which  communicates  to  the  son  a  portion  of  the  same 
respect  which  was  wont  to  be  paid  to  the  virtues  or  sta- 
tion of  the  father— the  mutual  jealousy  of  other  com- 
petitors—the greater  envy,  with  which  all  behold  the 
exaltation  of  an  equal,  than  the  continuance  of  an  ac- 


308  Origin  of  Civil  Government, 

knowledged  superiority — a  reigning  prince,  leaving 
behind  him  many  adherents,  who  can  preserve  their 
own  importance,  only  by  supporting  the  succession 
of  his  children — Add  to  these  reasons,  that  elections 
to  the  supreme  power  having,  upon  trial,  produced 
destructive  contentions,  many  states  would  take  ref- 
uge from  a  return  of  the  same  calamities,  in  a  rule 
of  succession  ;  and  no  rule  presents  itself  so  obvious, 
certain,  and  intelligible,  as  consanguinity  of  birth. 

The  ancient  state  of  society  in  most  countries,  and 
the  modern  condition  of  some  uncivilized  parts  of 
the  world,  exhibit  that  appearance,  which  this  ac- 
count of  the  origin  of  civil  government  would  lead 
us  to  expect.  The  earliest  histories  of  Palestine, 
Greece,  Italy,  Gaul,  Britain,  inform  us,  that  these 
countries  were  occupied  by  many  small  independent 
nations,  not  much  perhaps  unlike  those  which  are 
found  at  present  amongst  the  savage  inhabitants  of 
North  America,  and  upon  the  coast  of  Africa.  These 
nations  I  consider  as  the  amplifications  of  so  many 
single  families,  or  as  derived  from  the  junction  of 
two  or  three  families,  whom  society  in  war,  or  the 
approach  of  some  common  danger,  had  united. 
Suppose  a  country  to  have  been  first  peopled  by  ship- 
wreck on  its  coasts,  or  by  emigrants  or  exiles  from 
a  neighbouring  country,  the  new  settlers  having  no 
enemv  to  provide  against,  and  occupied  with  the 
care  of  their  personal  subsistence,  would  think  little 
of  digesting  a  system  of  laws,  of  contriving  a  form 
of  government,  or  indeed  of  any  political  union 
whatever ;  but  each  settler  would  remain  at  the 
head  of  his  own  family,  and  each  family  would  in- 
clude all  of  every  age  and  generation  who  were  de- 
scended from  him.  So  many  of  these  families  as 
were  holden  together  after  the  death  of  the  original 
ancestor,  by  the  reasons,  and  in  the  method  above 
recited,  would  wax,  as  the  individuals  were  multi- 
plied, into  tribes,  clans,  hordes,  or  nations,  similar 
to  those  into  which  the  ancient  inhabitants  of  many 
countries   are  known   to   have  been   divided,   and 


Subjection  io  Civil  Government,  309 

which  are  still  found,  wherever  the  state  of  society 
and  manners  is  immature  and   uncultivated. 

Nor  need  we  be  surprised  at  the  early  existence  in 
the  world  of  some  vast  empires,  or  at  the  rapidity 
with  which  they  advanced  to  their  greatness,  from 
comparatively  small  and  obscure  originals.  Whilst 
the  inhabitants  of  so  many  countries  were  broken 
into  numerous  communities,  unconnected,  and  often-^ 
times  contending  with  each  other  ;  before  experi- 
ence had  taught  these  little  states  to  see  their  own 
danger  in  their  neighbour's  ruin  ;  or  had  instruct- 
ed them  in  the  necessity  of  resisting  the  aggran- 
dizement of  an  aspiring  power,  by  alliances  and 
timely  preparations ;  in  this  condition  of  civil 
policy,  a  particular  tribe,  which  by  any  means  had 
got  the  start  of  the  rest  in  strength,  or  discipline, 
and  happened  to  fall  under  the  conduct  of  an  ambi- 
tious chief,  by  directing  their  first  attempts  to  the 
part  where  success  was  most  secure,  and  by  assuming, 
as  they  went  along,  those  whom  they  conquered,  in- 
to a  share  of  their  future  enterprizes,  might  soon 
gather  a  force  which  would  infallibly  overbear  any 
opposition,  that  the  scattered  power  and  unprovided 
state  of  such  enemies  could  make  to  the  progress  of 
their  victories. 

Lastly,  our  theory  affords  a  presumption,  that  the 
earliest  governments  were  monarchies,  because  the 
government  of  families,  and  of  armies,  from  which, 
according  to  our  account,  civil  government  derived 
its  institution,  and  probably  its  form,  is  universally 
monarchical. 


CHJFTER  II. 

HOW    SUBJECTIO\T    TO    CIVIL    GOVERN- 
MENT IS  MAINTAINED. 

V_^OULD  we  view  our  own  species  from  a 
distance,  or  regard  mankind  with  the  same  sort  of 
observatsQn,  with  which  we  read  the  natural  history. 


SIO  Subjection  to  Civil  Government, 

or  remark  the  manners,  of  any  other  animal,  there  is 
nothing  in  the  human  character  which  would  more 
surprise  us,  than  the  ahnost  universal  subjugation  of 
strength  to  weakness — than  to  see  many  millions 
of  robust  men,  in  the  complete  use  and  exercise  of 
their  personal  faculties,  and  without  any  defect  of 
courage,  waiting  upon  the  will  of  a  child,  a  woman, 
a  driveller,  or  a  lunatic.  And  although,  when  we 
suppose  a  vast  empire  in  absolute  subjection  to  one 
person,  and  that  one  depressed  beneath  the  level  of 
his  species  by  infirmities,  or  vice,  we  suppose  perhaps 
an  extreme  case,  yet  in  all  cases,  even  in  the  most 
popular  forms  of  civil  government,  the  physical 
strength  resides  in  the  governed.  In  what  manner  opin- 
ion thus  prevails  over  strength,  or  how  power,  which 
naturally  belongs  to  superior  force,  is  maintained  in 
opposition  to  it ;  in  other  words,  by  what  motives 
the  many  are  induced  to  submit  to  the  few,  becomes 
an  inquiry  which  lies  at  the  root  of  almost  every 
political  speculation.  It  removes,  indeed,  but  does 
not  resolve  the  difficulty,  to  say,  that  civil  govern- 
ments are  now-a-days  almost  universally  upheld  by 
standing  armies ;  for  the  question  still  returns,  how 
are  these  armies  themselves  kept  in  subjection,  or 
made  to  obey  the  commands,  and  carry  on  the  de- 
signs, of  the  prince  or  state  which  employs  them. 

Now  although  we  should  look  in  vain  for  any 
single  reason  which  will  account  for  the  general  sub- 
mission of  mankind  to  civil  government,  yet  it  may 
not  be  difficult  to  assign  for  every  class  and  charac- 
ter in  the  community,  considerations  powerful 
enough  to  dissuade  each  from  any  attempts  to  resist 
astablished  authority.  Every  man  has  his  motive, 
though  not  the  same.  In  this,  as  in  other  instances^ 
the  conduct  is  similar,  but  the  principles  which  pro- 
duce it  extremely  various. 

There  are  three  distinctions  of  character  into 
which  the  subjects  of  a  state  may  be  divided  ;  into 
those  who  obey  from  prejudice  ;  those  who  obey 
from  reason  j  and  those  who  obey  from  self  interest™ 


Subjedionio  Chit  Governments  si 3, 

I.  They  who  obey  from  prejudiccj  are  determined 
by  an  opinion  of  right  in  their  governors ;  which 
opinion  is  founded  upon  prescription.  In  monarchies 
and  aristocracies  which  are  hereditary,  the  prescrip- 
tion operates  in  favour  of  particuhir  families  ;  in  re» 
publics  and  elective  offices,  in  favour  of  particular 
forms  of  government,  or  constitutions.  Nor  is  it  to 
be  wondered  at,  that  mankind  should  reverence  au- 
thority founded  in  prescription,  when  they  observe 
that  it  is  prescription  which  confers  the  title  to  al- 
most every  thing  else;  The  whole  course  and  all  the 
habits  of  civil  life,  favour  this  prejudice.  Upon 
what  other  foundation  stands  any  man's  right  to  his 
estate  ?  The  right  of  primogeniture,  the  succession  of 
kindred,  the  descent  of  property,  the  inheritance  of 
honours,  the  demand  of  tithes,  tolls,  rents,  or  ser- 
vices from  the  estates  of  others,  the  right  of  way, 
the  powers  of  office  and  magistracy,  the  privileges  of 
nobility,  the  immunities  of  the  clergy,  upon  what 
are  they  all  founded,  in  the  apprehension  at  hast  of 
the  multitude,  but  upon  prescription  ?  To  what  else, 
when  the  claims  are  contested,  is  the  appeal  made  ? 
It  is  natural  to  transfer  the  same  principle  to  the  af- 
fairs of  government,  and  to  regard  those  exertions 
of  power,  which  have  been  long  exercised  and  acqui- 
esced in,  as  so  many  rights  in  the  sovereign  ;  and  to 
consider  obedience  to  his  commands,  within  certain 
accustomed  limits,  as  enjoined  by  that  rule  of  con- 
science, which  requires  us  to  render  to  every  man 
his  due. 

In  hereditary  monarchies,  the  prescriptive  title  is 
corroborated,  and  its  influence  considerably  augment- 
ed, by  an  accession  bf  religious  sentiments,  and  by 
that  sac  redness  which  men  are  wont  to  ascribe  to  the 
persons  of  princes.  Princes  themselves  have  not  fail- 
ed to  take  advantage  of  this  disposition,  by  claiming 
a  superior  dignity,  as  it  were,  of  nature,  or  a  peculiar 
delegation  from  the  Supreme  Being.  For  this  pur- 
pose were  introduced  the  titles  of  sacred  majesty,  of 
God's  annointed,  representative,  vicegerent,  together 
with  the  ceremonies  of  investitures  and  coronationSj 


312  Subjection  to  Civil  Government. 

which  are  calculated  not  so  much  to  recognize  the 
authority  of  sovereigns,  as  to  consecrate  their  persons* 
Where  a  fabulous  religion  permitted  it,  the  public 
veneration  has  been  challenged  by  bolder  pretensions. 
The  Roman  Emperors  usurped  the  titles,  and  arrogat- 
ed the  worship  of  gods.  The  mythology  of  the  heroic 
ages,  and  of  many  barbarous  nations,  was  easily  con- 
verted to  this  purpose.  Some  princes,  like  the  he- 
roes of  Homer,  and  the  founder  of  the  Roman  name, 
derived  their  birth  from  the  gods;  others,  with  Nu- 
ma,  pretended  a  secret  communication  with  some  di- 
vine being  ;  and  others  again,  like  the  Incas  of  Peru, 
and  the  ancient  Saxon  kings,  extracted  their  descent 
from  the  deities  of  their  country.  The  Lama  of 
Thibet,  at  this  day,  is  held  forth  to  his  subjects,  not  as 
the  offsprmg  or  successor  of  a  divine  race  of  princes, 
but  as  the  immortal  God  himself,  the  object  at  once 
of  civil  obedience  and  religious  adoration.  This  in- 
stance is  singular,  and  may  be  accounted  the  farthest 
point  to  which  the  abuse  of  human  credulity  has  ever 
been  carried.  But  in  all  these  instances  the  purpose 
was  the  same — to  engage  the  reverence  of  manldnd, 
by  an  application  to  their  religious  principles. 

The  reader  will  be  careful  to  observe,  that  in  this 
article  we  denominate  every  opinion,  v/hether  true 
or  false,  a  prejudice,  which  is  not  founded  upon  argu- 
ment, in  the  mind  of  the  person  who  entertains  it. 

II.  They  who  obey  from  reason^  that  is  to  say,  from 
conscience  as  instructed  by  rersonings  and  conclusions 
of  their  own,  are  determined  by  the  consideration  of 
the  necessity  of  some  government  or  other  ;  the  cer- 
tain mischief  of  civil  commotions,  and  the  danger  of 
resettling  the  government  of  their  country  better,  or 
at  all,  if  once  subverted  or  disturbed. 

III.  They  who  obey  from  self-interest,  are  kept  in 
order  by  want  of  leisure  ;  by  a  succession  of  private 
cares,  pleasures  and  engagements  ;  by  contentment, 
or  a  sense  of  the  ease,  plenty,  and  safety  which  they 
enjoy  ;  or  lastly  and  principally,  by  fear,  foreseeing 
that  they  would  bring  themselves  by  resistance  into 
a  worse  situation  than  their  present,  inasmuch  as  the 


Subjecihtf  to  Civil  Government.  313 

strength  of  government,  each  discontented  subject  re- 
flects, is  greater  than  his  own,  and  he  knows  not  that 
others  would  join  him.  This  last  consideration  has 
often  been  called  op'mion  of  power. 

This  account  of  the  principles  by  which  mankind 
are  retained  in  their  obedience  to  civil  government, 
may  suggest  the  following  cautions : 

1.  Let  civil  governors  learn  from  hence  to  respect 
their  subjects  j  let  them  be  admonished,  that  the  phys- 
ical strength  resides  in  the  governed .;  that  this  strength 
wants  only  to  be  felt  and  roused,  to  lay  porstrate  the 
most  ancient  and  confirmed  dominion;  that  civil 
authority  is  founded  in  opinion  ;  that  general  opin- 
ion therefore  ought  always  to  be  treated  with  defer- 
ence, and  managed  with  delicacy  and  circumspection. 

2.  Opinion  of  right  always  following  the  custom^  be- 
ing for  the  most  part  founded  in  nothing  else,  and 
lending  one  principal  support  ot  government,  every 
innovation  in  the  constitution,  or,  in  other  words,  in 
-the  custom  of  governing,  diminishes  the  stability  of 
■government.  Hence  some  absurdities  are  to  be  re- 
tained, and  many  small  inconveniences  endured  in 
every  country,  rather  than  the  usage  should  be  vio- 
lated, or  the  course  of  public  afiairs  diverted  from 
their  old  and  smooth  channel.  Even  names  are  not 
indifferent.  When  the  multitude  are  to  be  dealt 
with,  there  is  a  charm  in  sounds.  It  was  upon  this 
principle,  that  several  statesmen  of  those  times  advis- 
ed Cromwell  to  assume  the  title  of  king,  together 
with  an  ancient  style  and  insignia  of  royalty.  The 
minds  of  many,  they  contended,  would  be  brought 
to  acquiesce  in  the  authority  of  a  king,  who  suspect- 
ed the  office,  and  were  offended  with  the  adminis- 
tration of  a  protector.  Novelty  reminded  them  of 
usurpation.  The  adversaries  of  this  design  opposed 
•the  measure,  from  the  same  persuasion  of  the  efficacy 
of  names  and  forms,  jealous  lest  the  veneradon  paid 
to  these,  should  add  an  influence  to  the  new  settle- 
ment, which  might  ensnare  the  liberty  of  the  coojl- 
monwealth. 


314  Subject wn  to  Civil  Governmeni, 

3.  Government  may  be  too  secure.  The  greatest  ty- 
rants have  been  those,  whose  titles  were  the  most 
unquestionable.  Whenever  therefore  the  opinion 
of  right  becomes  too  predominant  and  superstitious, 
it  is  abated  by  breaking  the  custom.  Thus  the  Revo- 
lution broke  the  custom  of  succession^  ajid  thereby  mod- 
erated, both  in  the  prince  and  in  the  people,  those 
lofty  notions  of  hereditary  right,  which  in  the  one 
were  become  a  continual  incentive  to  tyranny,  and 
disposed  the  other  to  invite  servitude,  by  undue 
compliances  and  dangerous  concessions. 

4.  As  ignorance  of  union  and  want  of  communi- 
cation appear  amongst  the  principal  preservatives  of 
civil  authority,  it  behoves  every  state  to  keep  its  sub- 
jects in  this  want  and  ignorance,  not  only  by  vigi- 
lance in  guarding  against  actual  confederacies  and 
combinations,  but  by  a  timely  care  to  prevent  great 
collections  of  men  of  any  separate  party  of  religion, 
or  of  like  occupation  or  profession,  or  in  any  way  con- 
nected by  a  participation  of  intere>t  or  passion,  from 
being  assembled  in  the  same  vicinity.  A  Protestant  es- 
tablishment in  this  country,  may  have  little  to  fear 
from  its  Popish  subjects,  scattered  as  they  are  through- 
out the  kingdom,  and  intermixed  with  the  Protestant 
inhabitants,  which  yet  might  think  them  a  formidable 
t>ody,  if  they  were  gathered  together  into  one  coun- 
ty. The  most  frequent  and  desperate  riots  are  those 
which  break  out  amongst  men  of  the  same  profession , 
as  weavers,  miners,  sailors.  1  his  circumstance  makes 
a  mutiny  of  soldiers  more  to  be  dreaded  than  any 
other  insurrection.  Hence  also  one  danger  of  an 
overgrown  metropolis:,  and  of  those  great  cities  and 
crowded  districts,  into  which  the  inhabitants  of  trad- 
ing countries  are  commonly  collected.  The  worst 
effect  of  popular  tumults  consists  in  this,  that  they 
discover  to  the  insurgents  the  secret  of  their  own 
strength,  teach  them  to  depend  upon  it  against  a  fu- 
ture occasion,  and  both  produce  and  diffuse  senti- 
ments of  confidence  in  one  another,  and  assurances 
of  mutual  support.  Leagues  thus  formed  and 
strengthened,  may  overawe,  or  overset  the  power  of 


Duty  of  Submission  explained,  315 

any  state  ;  and  the  danger  is  greater,  in  proportion, 
as,  from  the  propinquity  of  habitation  and  inter, 
course  of  employment,  the  passions  and  counsels  of  a 
party  can  be  circulated  with  ease  and  rapidity.  It  is 
by  the>e  means,  and  in  such  situations,  that  the  minds 
of  men  are  so  affected  and  prepared,  that  the  most 
dreadful  uproars  often  arise  from  the  slightest  provo- 
cations. When  the  train  is  laid,  a  spark  will  produce 
the  explosion. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE    DUTY    OF    SUBMISSION    TO    CIVIL 
GOVERNMENT  EXPLAINED. 

J  HE  subject  of  this  Chapter  is  sufficiently  dis- 
tinguished from  the  subject  of  the  last,  as  the  motives 
which  actually  produce  civil  obedience,  may  be,  and 
often  are,  very  different  from  the  reasons  which  make 
that  obedience  a  duty. 

In  order  to  prove  civil  obedience  to  be  a  moral 
duty,  and  an  obligation  upon  the  consciences  it  hath 
been  usual  with  many  political  writers,  at  the  head 
of  whom  we  find  the  venerable  name  of  Locke,  to 
state  a  compact  between  the  citizen  and  the  state,  as 
the  ground  and  cause  of  the  relation  between  them ; 
which  compact  binding  the  parties,  for  the  same  gen- 
eral  reason  that  private  contracts  do,  resolves  the  du- 
ty of  submission  to  civil  government  into  the  univer- 
sal obligation  of  fidelity  in  the  performance  of  prom- 
ises.    This  compact  is  two-fold  : 

First,  An  express  compact  by  the  primitive  found- 
ers of  the  state,  who  are  supposed  to  have  convened 
for  the  declared  purpose  of  settling  the  terms  of  their 
political  union,  and  a  future  constitution  of  govern- 
ment. The  whole  body  is  supposed,  in  the  first 
place,  to  have  unanimously  consented  to  be  bound 
by  the  resolutions  of  the  majority  ;  that  majority, 
in  the  next  plgice,  to  have  fixed  certain  fundamental 


316  Duty  of  Submission  explained. 

regulations ;  and  then  to  have  constituted,  either  in 
one  person,  or  in  an  aisembly  (the  rule  of  succession 
or  appointment  being  at  the  same  time  determined) 
a  standing  legislature,  to  whom,  under  these  pre-estab- 
lished restrictions,  the  government  of"  the  state  was 
thenceforward  committed,  and  whose  laws  the  sever- 
al members  of  the  convention  were,  by  their  first 
undertaking,  thus  personally  engaged  to  obey.  This 
transaction  is  sometimes  called  the  social  compaet,  and 
these  supposed  original  regulations  compose  what  are 
meant  by  the  constitution,  the  fundamental  laws  of  the 
constitution  ;  and  form,  on  one  side,  the  inherent  inde- 
feasible prerogatinje  of  the  crown  :  and,  on  the  other,  the 
unalienable  imprescriptible  birth  right  of  the  .  ubject. 

Secondly,  A  tacit  or  implied  compact,  by  all  suc- 
ceeding members  of  the  state,  who  by  accepting  its 
protection,  consent  to  be  bound  by  its  laws  ;  in  like 
manner,  as  whoever  voluntarily  enters  into  a  private 
society,  is  understood,  v/ithout  any  other  or  more 
explicit  stipulation,  to  promise  a  conformity  with  the 
rules,  and  obedience  to  the  government  of  that  so- 
ciety, as  the  known  conditions  upon  which  he  is  ad- 
mitted to  a  participation  of  its  privileges. 

This  account  of  the  subject,  although  specious, 
and  patronized  by  names  the  most  respectable,  ap- 
pears to  labour  under  the  foliov/ing  objections  ;  that 
it  is  founded  upon  a  supposition  false  in  fact ;  and 
leading  to  dangerous  conclusions.  No  social  com- 
pact, similar  to  what  is  here  described,  was  ever 
made  or  entered  into  in  reality  ;  no  such  original 
convention  of  the  people  was  ever  actually  held,  or 
in  any  country  could  be  held,  antecedent  to  the 
existence  of  civil  government  in  that  country.  It  is 
to  suppose  it  possible  to  call  savages  out  of  caves  and 
deserts,  to  deliberate  and  vote  upon  topics,  which 
the  experience,  and  studies,  and  refinements  of  civil 
life  alone  suggest.  Therefore  no  government  in  the 
universe  began  from  this  original.  Some  imitation  of 
a  cocial  compact  may  have  taken  place  at  a  revolution. 
The  present  age  has  been  witness  to  a  transaction, 
which  bears  the  nearest  resemblance  to  this  political 


Duty  of  Submission  explained.  317 

idea,  of  any  of  which  history  has  preserved  the  ac- 
count or  memory-     I  refer  to  the  establishment  of 
the  United  States  of  North-America.     We  saw  the 
people   assembled  to  elect  deputies,  for   the'  avowed 
purpose  of  framing  the  constitution  of  a   new  em- 
pire.    We  saw  this  deputation  of  the  people  delibe- 
rating and  resolving  upon   a   form  of  government, 
erecting   a   permanent   legislature,   distributing    the 
functions  of  sovereignty,  establishing  and  promulgat-. 
ing  a  code  of  fundamental  ordinances,  which  were 
to    be    considered   by   suceeding  generations,    not 
merely  as  laws  and  acts  of  the  state,  but  as  the  very 
terms  and  conditions  of  the  confederation ;  as  bind- 
ing not  only  upon  the  subjects  and  magistrates  oi-  the 
state,  but  as  limitations  of  power,  which  were  to 
control   and   regulate   the  future  legislature.       Yet 
even  here  much  was  presupposed.     In  settling  the 
constitution  many  important   parts  were  presumed 
to  be  already  settled.     The  qualifications  of  the  con- 
stituents who   were  admitted  to  vote  in  the  election 
of  members  of  congress,   as  well   as   the   mode   of 
electing  the  representatives,   were  taken   from  the 
old  forms  of  government.     That  was  wanting  from 
which  every  social  union  should  set  off,  and  which 
alone  makes  the  resolutions  of  the  society  the  act  of 
the  individual,  the  unconstrained  consent   of  all  to 
be  bound  by  the  decission  of  the  majority  ;  and  yet, 
without    this   previous    consent,  the   revolt,  and  the 
regulations  which    followed    it.    Were    compulsory 
upon  dissentients. 

But  the  original  compact,  we  are  told,  is  not  pro- 
posed as  a  fact,  but  as  a  fiction,  which  furnishes  a 
commodious  explication  of  the  mutual  rights  and 
duties  of  sovereigns  and  subjects.  In  answer  to  this 
representation  of  the  matter,  we  observe,  that  the 
original  compact,  if  it  be  not  a  fact,  is  nothing  ; 
can  confer  no  actual  authority  upon  laws  or 
magistrates,  nor  afford  any  foundation  to  rights, 
which  are  supposed  to  be  real  and  existing.  But 
the  truth  is,  that  in  the  books,  and  in  the  apprehen- 
sion of  those  who  deduce  our  civil  risht?  and  obliV 


SI 8  Duty  of  Submission  explained. 

gations  a  pactis,  the  original  convention  is  appealed 
to  and  treated  of  as  a  reality.  Whenever  the  dis- 
ciples of  this  system  speak  of  the  constitution  ;  of 
the  fundamental  articles  of  the  constitution  ;  of  laws 
being  constitutional  or  unconstitutional ;  of  inhe- 
rent, unalienable,  inextinguishable  rights,  either  in 
the  prince,  or  in  the  people ;  or  indeed  of  any  laws, 
usages,  or  civil  rights,  as  transcending  the  authority 
oi  the  subsisting  legislature,  or  possessing  a  force  and 
sanction  superior  to  what  belong  to  the  modern 
acts  and  edicts  of  the  legislature,  they  secretly  refer 
us  to  what  passed  at  the  original  convention.  They 
wot]ld  teach  us  to  believe  that  certain  rules  and  or- 
dinances were  established  by  the  people,  at  the  same 
time  that  they  settled  the  charter  of  government, 
and  the  powers  as  well  as  the  form  of  the  future  le- 
gislature ;  that  this  legislature  consequently,  deriving 
its  commission  and  existence  from  the  consent  and 
act  of  the  primitive  assembly  (of  which  indeed  it  is 
only  the  standing  deputation)  continues  subject  in 
the  exercise  of  its  offices,  and  as  to  the  extent  of  its 
power,  to  the  rules,  reservations,  and  limitations 
which  the  same  assembly  then  made  and  prescribed 
to  it. 

"  As  the  first  members  of  the  state  were  bound  by 
express  stipulation  to  obey  the  government  which 
they  had  erected,  so  the  suceeding  inhabitants  of 
the  same  country  are  understood  to  promise  allegi- 
ance to  the  constitution  and  government  they  find 
established,  by  accepting  its  protection,  claiming  its 
privileges,  and  acquiescing  in  its  laws  ;  more  espec- 
ially, by  the  purchase  or  inheritance  of  lands,  to 
the  possession  of  which,  allegiance  to  the  state  is  an- 
nexed, as  the  very  service  and  condition  of  the  ten- 
ure.'* Smoothly  as  this  train  of  argument  proceeds, 
little  of  it  will  endure  examination.  The  native  sub- 
jects of  modern  states  are  not  conscious  of  any  stipu- 
lation with  their  sovereigns,  of  ever  exercising  an 
election  whether  they  will  be  bound  or  not  by  the  acts 
of  the  legislature,  of  any  alternative  being  proposed 
to  their  choice,  of  a  promise  either  required  or  giv- 


Duty  of  Submission  explained,  319 

fen  ;  nor  do  they  apprehend  that  the  validity  or  au- 
thority of  the  laws  depends  at  all  upon  their  recog- 
nition ar  consent.  In  all  stipulations,  whether  they 
be  expressed  or  implied,  private  or  public,  formal  or 
constructive,  the  parties  stipulating  must  both  possess 
the  liberty  of  assent  and  refusal,  and  also  be  con- 
scious of  this  liberty  j  which  cannot  with  truth  be 
affirmed  ot  the  subjects  of  civil  government,  as  gov- 
ernment is  now,  or  ever  M'as  actually  administered. 
This  is  a  defect,  which  no  arguments  can  excuse  or 
supply :  all  presumptions  of  consent,  without  this 
consciou  ness,  or  in  opposition  to  it,  are  vain  and 
erroneous.  Still^  less  is  it  possible  to  reconcile  with 
any  idea  of  stipulation  the  practice  in  which  all  Eu- 
ropean nations  agree,  of  founding  allegiance  upon 
the  circumstance  of  nativity,  that  is,  of  claiming 
and  treating  as  subjects  all  those  who  are  born  with- 
in the  confines  of  their  dominions,  although  remov- 
ed to  another  country  in  their  youth  or  infancy. 
In  this  instance  certainly,  the  state  does  not  presume 
a  compact.  Also  if  the  subject  be  bound  only  by 
his  own  consent,  and  if  the  voluntary  abiding  in  the 
country  be  the  proof  and  intimation  of  that  consent, 
by  what  arguments  shall  we  defend  the  right,  which 
sovereigns  universally  assume,  of  prohibiting,  when 
they  please,  the  departure  of  their  subjects  out  of  the 
realm  ? 

Again,  when  it  is  contended  that  the  taking  and 
holding  possession  of  land  amounts  to  an  acknowl- 
edgment of  the  sovereign,  and  a  virtual  promise  of 
allegiance  to  his  laws,  it  is  necessary  to  the  validity 
of  the  argument  to  prove,  that  the  inhabitants,  who 
first  composed  and  constituted  the  state,  collectively 
possessed  a  right  to  the  soil  of  the  country — a  right 
to  parcel  it  out  to  whom  they  pleased,  and  to  annex 
to  t'fie  donation  what  conditions  they  thought  fit. 
How  came  they  by  this  right  ?  An  agreement 
amongst  themselves  would  not  confer  it :  that  could 
only  adjust  what  already  belonged  to  them.  A  so- 
ciety of  men  vote  themselves  to  be  the  owners  of  a 


R   R 


330  Duty  of  Submission  c^pla'med* 

region  of  the  world  ;  does  that  vote,  unaccompanied 
especially  with  any  culture,  inclosure,  or  proper  act 
of  occupation,  make  it  theirs  ?  does  it  entitle  them 
to  exclude  others  from  it,  or  to  dictate  the  conditions 
upon  which  it  shall  be  enjoyed  ?  Yet  this  original 
collective  right  and  ownership,  is  the  foundation  of 
all  the  reasoning,  by  which  the  duty  of  allegiance  is 
inferred  from  the  possession  of  land. 

The  theory  of  government,  which  affirms  the  ex- 
istence and  the  obligation  of  a  social  compact,  would, 
after  all,  merit  little  discussion,  and  however  ground- 
less and  unnecessary,  should  receive  no  opposition 
from  us,  did  it  not  appear  to  lead  to  conclusions  un^ 
favourable  to  the  improvement,  and  to  the  peace  of 
human  society. 

Ist.  Upon  the  supposition  that  government  was. 
first  erected  by,  and  that  it  derives  all  its  just  au- 
thority from,  resolutions  entered  into  by  a  conven- 
tion of  the.  people,  it  is  capable  of  being  presumed, 
that  many  points  were  settled  by  that  convention, 
anterior  to  the  establishment  of  the  subsisting  legis- 
lature, and  which  the  legislature,  consequently,  has 
DO  right  to  alter,  or  interfere  with.  These  points 
art  called  the  fundamentals  of  the  constitution  ;  and 
as  it  is  impossible  to  determine  how  many,  or  what 
they  are,  the  sugge.'^ting  of  any  such,  serves  extremely 
to  embarrass  the  deliberations  of  the  legislature,  and 
affords  a  dangerous  pretence  for  disputing  the  author- 
ity of  the  laws.  It  was  this  sort  of  reasoning  (so  far  as 
reasoning  of  any  kind  was  employed  in  the  question) 
that  produced  in  this  nation  the  doubt,  which  so 
much  agitated  the  minds  of  men  in  the  reign  of  the 
s.eccnd  Charles,  whether  an  Act  of  Parliament  could 
of  right  alter  or  limit  the  succession  of  the  crown. 

*2dly.  If  it  be  by  virtue  of  a  compact,  that  the  sub- 
ject owes  obedience  to  civil  government,  it  will  fol- 
'  ;w,  that  he  ought   to  abide  by  the  form   of  govern- 
/\ent  which  he  find^.  established,  be  it  ever  ro  absurd, 
-  incoavenient,     He  is  bound  by  his  bargain.     It  is 

•.  permitted  to  any  man  to  retreat  from  his  engage- 
.    ar,  merely  because  he  finds  the  performance  disad- 


Duly  of  Submission  explained,  321 

vantageous,  or  because  he  has  au  opportunity  of  en- 
tering into  a  better.  This  law  of  contracts  is  univer- 
sal :  and  to  call  the  relation  between  the  sovereign 
and  the  subjects  a  contract,  yet  not  to  apply  to  it  the 
rules,  or  allow  of  the  effects  of  a  contract,  is  an  arbi- 
trary use  of  names,  and  an  unsteadiness  in  reasoning, 
which  can  teach  nothing.  Resistance  to  the  encroacJj- 
fnents  of  the  supreme  magistrate  may  be  justified  upon 
this  principle  ;  recourse  to  arms,  for  the  purpose  of 
bringing  about  an  amendment  to  the  constitution, 
never  can.  No  form  of  government  contains  a  pro- 
vision for  its  ov/n  dissolution  ;  and  few  governors  will 
consent  to  the  extinction,  or  even  to  any  abridgment 
of  their  own  power.  It  does  not  therefore  appear,how 
despotic  governments  can  ever,  in  consistency  with 
the  obligation  of  the  subject,  be  changed,  or  mitigated. 
Despotism  is  the  constitution  of  many  states :  and 
whilst  a  despotic  prince  exacts  from  his  subjects  the 
most  rigorous  servitude,  according  to  this  account, 
he  is  only  holding  them  to  their  agreement.  A  peo- 
ple may  vindicate,  by  force,  the  rights  which  the  con- 
stitution has  left  them ;  but  every  attempt  to  narrow 
the  prerogative  of  the  crown,  by  7iew  limitatioTis,  and 
in  opposition  to  the  will  of  the  reigning  prince,  what- 
ever opportunities  may  invite,  or  success  follow  it, 
must  be  condemned  as  an  infraction  of  the  compact 
betvi'^een  the  sovereign  and  the  subject. 

Sdly.  Every  violation  of  the  compact  on  the  part 
of  the  governor  releases  the  subject  from  his  allegi- 
ance, and  dissolves  the  government.  I  do  not  per- 
ceive how  we  can  avoid  this  consequence,  if  we 
found  the  duty  of  allegiance  upon  compact,  and 
confess  any  analogy  between  the  social  compact  and 
other  contracts.  In  private  contracts,  the  violation 
and  non-performance  of  the  conditions,  by  one  of 
the  parties,  vacates  the  obligation  of  the  other. 
Now  the  terms  and  articles  of  the  social  compact, 
being  no  where  extant  or  expressed  j  the  rights  and 
offices  of  the  administrator  of  an  empire  being  so 
many  and  various  ;  the  imaginary  and  controverted 
line  of  his  prerogative  being  so  liable  to  be  ovej'- 


322  Duty  of  Suhnission  explained* 

stepped  in  one  part  or  other  of  it :  the  position  that 
every  such  transgression  amounts  to  a  forfeiture  oi 
the  government,  and  consequently  authorizes  the 
people  to  withdraw  their  obedience  and  provide  for 
themselves  by  a  new  settlement,  would  endanger  the 
stability  of  every  political  fabric  in  the  world,  and 
has  in  fact  always  supplied  the  disaffected  with  a  topic 
of  seditious  declamation.  If  occasions  have  arisen,  in 
which  this  plea  has  been  resorted  to  with  justice  and 
success,  they  have  been  occasions,  in  which  a  revolu- 
tion was  defensible  upon  other  and  plainer  principles. 
The  plea  itself  is  at  all  times  captious  and  unsafe. 

Wherefore,  rejecting  the  intervention  of  a  compacts 
as  unfounded  in  its  principle,  and  dangerous  in  the 
application,  we  assign  for  the  only  ground  of  the  sub- 
ject's obligation,  t«e  will  of  God,  as  collected 

FROM   EXPEDIENCY. 

The  steps  by  which  the  argument  proceeds  are  few 
and  direct.  "  It  is  the  will  of  God  that  the  happiness 
of  human  life  be  promoted  ;" — this  is  the  first  step, 
and  the  foundation  not  only  of  this  but  of  every  mor- 
al conclusion.  "  Civil  society  conduces  to  that  end ;" 
»— this  is  the  second  proposition.  "  Civil  societies 
cannot  be  upheld,  unless  in  each,  the  interest  of 
the  whole  society  be  binding  upon  every  part  and 
member  of  it  ;'*  this  is  the  third  step,  and  conducts 
us  to  the  conclusion,  namely,  "  that  so  long  as  the 
interest  of  the  whole  society  requires  it,  that  is,  so 
long  as  the  established  government  cannot  be  resisted 
or  changed,  without  public  inconveniency,  it  is  the 
will  of  God  (which  ivill  universally  determines  our 
duty)  that  the  established  government  be  obeyed," 
and  no  longer. 

This  principle  being  admitted,  the  justice  of  every 
particular  case  of  resistance,  is   reduced  to  a  compu- 
tation of  the  quantity  of  the  danger  and  grievance  on 
the  one  side,  and  of  the   probability  and  expense  of 
redressing  it  on  the  other. 

But  who  shall  judge  of  this  ?  We  answer,  "  Every 
man  for  himself."    In  contentions  between  the  sov- 


Duty  of  Sub?nission  Explained*  323 

ereign  and  the  subject,  the  parties  acknowledge  no 
common  arbitrator  ;  and  it  would  be  absurd  to  refer 
the  decision  to  those  whose  conduct  has  provoked  the 
question,  and  whose  own  interest^  authority,  and  fate, 
are  immediately  concerned  in  it.  The  danger  of  er- 
ror and  abuse  is  no  objection  to  the  rule  of  expedi- 
ency, because  every  other  rule  is  liable  to  the  same  or 
greater ;  and  every  rule  that  can  be  propounded  up- 
on the  subject  (like  all  rules  indeed  which  appeal  to,  or 
bind,  the  conscience)  must  in  the  application  depend 
upon  private  judgment.  It  may  be  observed,  how- 
ever, that  it  ought  equally  to  be  accounted  the  exer- 
cise of  a  man's  private  judgment,  whether  he  be  de- 
termined by  reasonings  and  conclusions  of  his  own, 
or  submit  to  be  directed  by  the  advice  of  others,  pro- 
vided he  be  free  to  choose  his  guide. 

We  proceed  to  point  out  some  easy  but  important 
inferences,  which  result  from  the  substitution  of 
public  expediency  into  the  place  of  all  implied  compacts, 
promises,  or  conventions  whatsoever. 

I.  It  may^be  as  much  a  duty,  at  one  time,  to  resist 
government,  as  it  is  at  another,  to  obey  it — to  wit, 
whenever  more  advantage  will,  in  our  opinion,  accrue 
to  the  community  from  resistance,  than  mischief. 

II.  The  lawfulness  of  resistance,  or  the  lawfulness 
of  a  revolt,  does  not  depend  alone  upon  the  griev- 
ance which  is  sustained  or  feared,  but  also  upon  the 
probable  expense  and  event  of  the  contest.  They 
who  concerted  the  revolution  in  England  were  justi- 
fiable in  their  counsels,  because  from  the  apparent 
disposition  of  the  nation,  and  the  strength  and  char- 
acter of  the  parties  engaged,  the  measure  was  likely 
to  be  brought  about  with  little  mischief  or  bloodshed; 
whereas,  it  might  have  been  a  question  with  many 
friends  of  their  country,  whether  the  injuries  then 
endured  and  threatened,  would  have  authorized  the 
renewal  of  a  doubtful  civil  war. 

III.  Irregularity  in  the  first  foundation  of  a  state, 
or  subsequent  violence,  fraud,  or  injustice  in  getting 
possession  of  the  supreme  power,  are  not  sufficient 
reasons  for  resistance,  after  the  government  is  once 


324<  Duty  of  Submission  explained, 

peaceably  settled.  No  subject  of  the  British  empire 
conceives  himself  engaged  to  vindicate  the  justice  of 
the  Norman  claim,  or  conque^it,  or  apprehends  that 
his  duty  in  any  manner  depends  upon  that  contro- 
versy. So  likewise  if  the  House  of  Lancaster,  or  even 
the  posterity  of  Cromv^rell,  had  been  at  this  d  y  seated 
upon  the  throne  of  England,  we  should  have  been  as 
little  concerned  to  inquire  how  the  found'  '•  of  the 
family  came  there.  No  civil  contests  are  &••  ^utile, 
although  none  have  been  so  furious  and  sanguinary, 
as  those  which  are  excited  by  a  disputed  succession. 

IV.  Not  every  invasion  of  the  subjects  rights,  or 
liberty,  or  of  the  constitution ;  not  every  breach  of 
promise,  or  of  oath ;  not  every  €tretch  of  prerogative, 
abuse  of  power,  or  neglect  of  duty  by  the  chief 
magistrate,  or  by  the  v/hole  or  any  branch  of  the  le- 
gislative body,  justifies  resistance,  unless  these  crimes 
draw  after  them  public  consequences  of  sufficient 
magnitude  to  outweigh  the  evils  of  civil  disturbance. 
Nevertheless,  every  violation  of  the  constitution 
ought  to  fbe  watched  with  jealousy,  and  resented  as 
such,  beyond  what  the  quantity  of  estimable  damage 
would  require  or  warrant ;  because  a  known  and  set- 
tled usage  of  governing  affords  the  only  security 
against  the  enormities  of  uncontrolled  dominion,  and 
because  this  security  is  weakened  by  every  encroach- 
ment v/hich  is  made  without  opposition,  or  opposed 
without  effect. 

V,  No  usage,  law,  or  authority  whatever,  is  so 
binding  that  it  need  or  ought  to  be  continued,  when 
it  may  be  changed  with  advantage  to  ■  the  community. 
The  family  of  the  prince,  the  order  of  succession,  the 
prerogative  of  the  crown,  the  form  and  parts  of  the 
legislature,  together  with  the  respective  powers,  of- 
fice, duration  and  mutual  dependency  of  the  several 
parts,  are  all  only  so  many  laws,  mutable  like  other 
laws  whenever  expediency  requires,  either  by  the  or- 
dinary act  of  the  legislature,  or,  if  the  occasion  de- 
serve it,  by  the  interposition  of  the  people.  These 
points  are  wont  to  be  approached  with  a  kind  of 
awe  5  they  are  represented  to  the  mi^d  <vs  principles 


Duty  of  Submission  explained.  32$ 

of  the  constitution  settled  by  our  ancestors,  and,  be- 
ing settled,  to  be-  no  more  committed  to  innovation 
or  debate ;  as  foundations  never  to  be  stirred  ^  as 
the  terms  and  conditions  of  the  social  compact,  to 
which  every  citizen  of  the  state  has  engaged  his  fideli- 
ty, by  virtue  of  a  promise,  which  he  cannot  now  recall. 
Such  reasons  have  no  place  in  our  system  ;  to  us,  if 
there  be  any  good  reason  for  treating  these  with 
more  deference  and  respect  than  other  laws,  it  is, 
either  the  advantage  of  the  present  constitution  of 
government  (which  reason  must  be  of  different  force 
in  different  countries)  or  because  in  all  countries,  it 
is  of  importance,  that  the  form  and  usage  of  govern- 
ing be  acknowledged  and  understood,  as  well  by  the 
governors  as  by  the  governed,  and  because  the  sel- 
domer  it  is  changed,  the  more  perfectly  it  will  be 
known  by  both  sides. 

VI.  As  all  civil  obligation  Is  resolved  into  expedi- 
ency, what,  it  may  be  asked,  is  the  difference  be- 
tween the  obligation  of  an  Engli.shman  and  a  French- 
man ?  or,  why  is  a  Frenchman  bound  in  conscience 
to  bear  any  thing  from  his  king,  which  an  English- 
man would  not  be  bound  to  bear,  since  the  obliga- 
tion of  both  is  founded  in  the  same  reason  ?  Their 
conditions  ntay  differ,  but  their  rights,  according  to 
this  account,  should  seem  to  be  equal ;  and  yet  we 
are  accustomed  to  speak  of  the  rights  as  well  as  of  the 
happiness  of  a  free  people,  compared  with  what  be- 
long to  the  subjects  of  absolute  monarchies  :  how, 
you  will  say,  can  this  comparison  be  explained,  unless 
we  refer  to  a  diijerence  in  the  compacts,  by  which 
they  are  respectively  bound  ? — I'his  is  a  fair  question, 
and  the  answer  to  it  will  afford  a  further  illustration 
of  our  principles.  We  admit  then,  that  there  are 
many  things  which  a  Frenchman  is  bound  in  con- 
science, as  well  as  by  coertion,  to  endure  at  the  hands 
of  his  prince,  to  which  an  Englishman  would  nor  be 
obliged  to  submit  ;  but  we  assert,  that  it  is  for  the.se 
two  reasons  alone  :  Jirst,  because  the  same  act  of  the 
prln.ce,  is  not  the  same  grievance  where  it  is  agreea- 
ble to  the  constitution^  and  where  it  infringes  it :  scc^ 


32i)  Duty  of  submission  explained^ 

ondly,  because  redress  in  the  two  cases  is  not  equally 
attainable.  Resistance  cannot  be  attempted  with 
equal  hopes  of  success,  or  with  the  same  prospect  of 
receiving  support  from  others,  where  the  people  are 
reconciled  to  their  sufferings,  as  where  they  are 
alarmed  by  innovation.  In  this  way,  and  no  other- 
wise, the  subjects  o(  different  states  posses  different 
civil  rights  ;  the  duty  of  obedience  is  defined  by  dif- 
ferent boundaries  ;  and  the  point  of  justifiable  resist- 
ance placed  at  different  parts  of  the  scale  of  suffering 
—all  which  is  sufficiently  intelligible  without  a  so- 
cial compact. 

VII.  "  The  interest  of  the  whole  society  is  binding 
upon  every  part  of  it."  No  rule,  short  of  this,  wil! 
provide  for  the  stability  of  civil  government,  or  for 
the  peace  and  safety  of  social  life.  Wherefore,  as  in- 
dividual members  of  the  state  are  not  permitted  to 
pursue  their  private  emolument  to  the  prejudice  of 
the  community,  so  is  it  equally  a  consequence  of 
this  rule,  that  no  particular  colony,  province,  town, 
or  district,  can  justly  concert  measures  for  their  sepa- 
rate interest,  which  shall  appear  at  the  same  time  to 
diminish  the  sum  of  public  prosperity.  I  do  not 
mean,  that  it  is  necessary  to  the  justice  of  a  measure, 
that  it  profit  each  and  every  part  of  the  community  ; 
for  as  the  happiness  of  the  whole  may  be  increased, 
whilst  that  of  some  parts  is  diminished,  it  is  possible, 
that  the  conduct  of  one  part  of  an  empire  may  be 
detrimental  to  some  orther  part,  and  yet  just,  provi- 
ded one  part  gain  more  in  happiness,  than  the  other 
part  loses,  so  that  the  common  weal  be  augmented  by 
the  change :  but  what  I  affirm  is,  that  those  counsels 
can  never  be  reconciled  with  the  obhgations  resulting 
from  civil  union,  which  cause  the  zubole  happiness  oi 
the  society  to  be  impaired  for  the  conveniency  of  a 
part.  This  conclusion  is  applicable  to  the  question 
of  right  between  Great  Britain  and  her  revolted 
colonies.  Had  I  been  an  American,  I  should  not  have 
thought  it  enough  to  have  had  it  even  demonstrated, 
that  a  separation  from  the  parent  state  would  produce 
efiects  beneficial  to  America  j  my  relation  to  that  state 


Duty  of  Civil  Obedience,  827 

imposed  upon  me  a  further  inquiry,  namely,  whethef 
the  whole  happiness  of  the  empire  was  likely  to  be 
promoted  by  vsuch  a  measure  ? — Not  indeed  the  hap- 
piness of  every  pirt ;  that  was  not  necessary,  nor  to 
be  expected — but  whether  what  Great  Britain  would 
lose  by  the  separation  was  likely  to  be  compensated  to 
the  joint  stock  of  happiness,  by  the  advantages  which 
America  would  receive  from  it.  The  contested 
claims  of  sovereign  states,  and  their  remote  depen- 
dences, may  be  submitted  to  the  adjudication  of  this 
rule  with  mutual  safety.  A  public  advantage  is 
measured  by  the  advantage  which  each  individual 
receives,  and  by  the  number  of  those  who  receive  it. 
A  public  evil  is  compounded  of  the  same  propor- 
tions. Whilst,  therefore,  a  colony  is  small,  or  a 
province  thinly  inhabited,  if  a  competition  of  in- 
terests arise  between  the  original  country  and  their 
acquired  dominions,  the  former  ought  to  be  prefer- 
red, because  it  is  fit,  that,  if  one  must  necessarily  be 
sacrificed,  the  less  give  place  to  the  greater  :  but 
when,  by  an  increase  of  population,  the  interest  of 
the  provinces  begins  to  bear  a  coubiderable  propor- 
tion to  the  entire  interest  of  the  community,  it  is 
possible  that  they  may  suffer  so  much  by  their  sub- 
jection, that  not  only  theirs,  but  the  whole  happi- 
ness of  the  empire  may  be  obstructed  by  their  union. 
The  rule  and  principle  of  the  calculation  being  still 
the  same,  the  result  is  different ;  and  this  difference 
begets  a  new  situation,  which  entitles  the  subordi- 
nate parts  of  the  state  to  more  equal  terms  of  con- 
federation, and,  if  these  be  refused,  to  independency. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  DUTY  OF  CIVIL  OBEDIENCE,  AS  STA- 
TED  IN  THE  CHRISTIAN  SCRIPTURES. 

W  E  affirm,  that,  as  to  the  extent  of  our  civil 
rights  and  obligations,  Christianity  hath  left  us  where 
9he  found  us  \  that  she  hath  neither  altered  nor  as- 

9  3 


328  Duty  ofChil  ObedienCSy 

certained  it ;  that  the  New  Testament  contains  not. 
one  passage,  which,  fairly  interpreted,  affords  eithcF 
argument  or  objection  apphcable  to  any  conclusions 
upon  the  subject,  that  are  deduced  from  the  law  and 
religion  of  nature. 

The  only  passages  which  have  been  seriously  al- 
leged in  the  controversy,  or  which  it  is  necessary 
for  us  to  state  and  examine,  are  the  two  following  ; 
the  one  extracted  from  St.  Paul's  Epistle  to  the  Ro- 
mans, the  other  from  the  First  General  Epistle  of  St^ 
Peter. 

Romans  xiii.  1 — 7. 

**  Let  every  soul  be  subject  unto  the  higher  pow- 
ers. For  there  is  no  power  but  of  God  ;  the  pow- 
ers that  be,  are  ordained  of  God.  "Whosoever  there- 
fore resisteth  the  power,  resisteth  the  ordinance  of 
God  :  and  they  that  resist,  shall  receive  to  them- 
selves damnation.  For  rulers  are  not  a  terror  to 
good  works,  but  to  the  evil.  Wilt  thou  then  not 
be  afraid  of  the  power  ?  Do  that  which  is  good, 
and  thou  shalt  have  praise  of  the  same  :  for  he  is  the 
minister  of  God  to  thee  for  good.  But  if  thou  do 
that  which  is  evil,  be  afraid  ;  for  he  beareth  not  the 
sword  in  vain  :  for  he  is  the  minister  of  God,  a  re- 
venger to  execute  wrath  upon  him  that  doeth  evil. 
Wherefore  ye  must  needs  be  subject,  not  only  for 
wrath,  but  also  for  conscience  sake.  For,for  thiscause 
pay  you  tribute  also  :  for  they  are  God's  ministers, 
attending  continually  upon  this  very  thing.  Ren- 
der therefore  to  all  their  dues  :  tribute  to  whom 
tribute  is  due,  custom  to  whom  custom,  fear  to 
whom  fear,  honour  to  whom  honour." 
1  Peter  ii.  13—18. 

"  Submit  yourselves  to  every  ordinance  of  man. 
for  the  Lord's  sake  :  whether  it  be  to  the  king  as 
supreme  ;  or  unto  governors,  as  unto  them  that  are 
sent  by  him  for  the  punishment  of  evil  doers,  and  for 
the  praise  of  them  that  do  well.  For  so  is  the  will 
of  God,  that  with  well-doing  ye  may  put  to  silence 
the  ignorance  of  foolish  men  :  as  free,  and  not  using 


as  stated  in  the  Scriptures.  329 

your  liberty  for  a  cloak  of  maliciousness,  but  as  the 
servants  of  God." 

To  comprehend  the  proper  import  of  these  in- 
structions, let  the  reader  reflect,  that  upon  the  sub- 
ject of  civil  obedience  there  are  two  questions :  the 
first,  whether  to  obey  government  be  a  moral  duty 
and  obligation  upon  the  conscience  at  all ;  the  sec- 
ond, how  far,  and  to  what  cases,  that  obedience 
ought  to  extend  ; — that  these  two  questions  are  so  dis. 
tinguishable  in  the  imagination,  that  it  is  possible  to 
treat  of  the  one,  without  any  thought  of  the  other  ; 
and  lastly,  that  i^  expressions  which  relate  to  one  of 
these  questions  be  transferred  and  applied  to  the  oth- 
er, it  is  with  great  danger  of  giving  them  a  significa- 
tion very  different  from  the  author's  meaning.  This 
distinction  is  not  only  possible,  but  natural.  If  I  met 
with  a  person,  who  appeared  to  entertain  doubts, 
Vv'hether  civil  obedience  were  a -moral  duty,  which 
ought  to  be  voluntarily  discharged,  or  whether  it 
were  not  a  mere  submission  to  force,  like  that,  which 
we  yield  to  a  robber,  who  holds  a  pistol  to  your  breast, 
I  should  represent  to  him  the  use  and  oflices  of  civil 
government,  the  end  and  the  neces  ity  of  civil  sub- 
jection ;  or,  if  I  preferred  a  different  theory,  I  should 
"explain  to  him  the  social  compact,  urge  him  with  the 
obligation  and  the  equity  of  his  implied  promise  and 
tacit  consent  to  be  governed  by  the  laws  of  the  state 
from  which  he  received  protection  ;  or  1  -should  ar- 
gue, perhaps,  that  nature  herself  dictated  the  law  of 
subordination,  when  she  planted  within  us  an  incli- 
nation to  associate  with  our  species,  and  framed  us 
with  capacities  so  various  and  unequal.  From  what- 
ever principle  I  set  out,  I  should  labour  to  infer  from 
it  this  conclusion,  "  That  obedience  to  the  state  is  to 
be  numbered  amongst  the  relative  duties  of  human 
life,  for  the  transgression  of  which  we  shall  be  ac- 
countable at  the  tribunal  of  divine  justice,  whether 
the  magistrate  be  able  to  punish  us  for  it  or  not  j*» 
and  being  arrived  at  this  conclusion,  1  should  stop 
having  delivered  the  conclusion  itself,  and  through, 
out   the  whole   argument  expressed  the  obedienc 


330  Duty  of  Civil  Obedience, 

which  I  inculcated,  in  the  most  general  and  unqual- 
ified terms,  all  reservations  and  restrictions  being  su- 
perfluous, and  foreign  to  the  doubts  I  was  employed 
to  remove. 

If  in  a  short  time  afterwards,  I  should  be  accosted 
by  the  same  person,  with  complaints  of  public  griev- 
ances, of  exorbitant  taxes,  of  acts  of  cruelty  and  op- 
pression, of  tyrannical  encroachments  upon  the  an- 
cient or  stipulated  rights  of  the  people,  and  should 
be  consulted  whether  it  were  lawful  to  revolt,  or 
justifiable  to  join  in  an  attempt  to  shake  off  the  yoke 
by  open  resistance ;  I  should  certainly  consider  my- 
self as  having  a  case  and  question  bt;fore  me  very  dif- 
ferent from  the  former.  I  should  now  define  and 
discriminate.  I  should  reply,  that  if  public  expedi- 
ency be  the  foundation,  it  is  also  the  measure  of  civil 
obedience ;  that  the  obligation  of  subjects  and  sov- 
ereigns is  reciprocal ;  that  the  duty  of  allegiance, 
whether  it  be  founded  in  utility  or  compact,  is  nei- 
ther unhmited  nor  unconditional ;  that  pea  e  may 
be  purchased  too  dear;  that  patience  become  cul- 
pable pusillanimity,  when  it  serves  only  to  encourage 
our  rulers  to  increase  the  weight  of  our  burthen,  or 
to  bind  it  the  faster  ;  that  the  submission,  which  sur- 
renders the  liberty  of  a  nation,  and  entails  slavery 
upon  future  generations,  is  enjoined  by  no  law  of 
rational  morality:  finally,  I  should  instruct  the  inquir- 
er to  compare  the  peril  and  expense  of  his  enterprize, 
with  the  effects  it  was  expected  to  produce,  and  to 
make  choice  of  the  alternative,  by  which,  not  his 
own  present  relief  or  profit,  but  the  whole  and  per- 
manent interest  of  the  state  was  likely  to  be  best  pro- 
moted. If  any  one  who  had  been  present  at  bcth 
these  conversations  should  upbraid  me  with  change 
or  inconsistency  of  opinion,  should  retort  upon  me 
the  passive  doctrine  I  before  taught,  the  large  and 
absolute  terms  in  which  I  then  delivered  lessons  of 
obedience  and  submission,  I  should  account  myself 
unfairly  dealt  with.  I  should  reply,  that  the  only 
difference  which  the  language  of  the  two  conversa- 
tiojQs  presented  was,  that  I  added  now  many  excep- 


es  stated inihe  Scriptures,  SSI 

tions  and  limitations,  which  were  omitted  or  un- 
lhoU;2,ht  of  then  ;  that  this  difference  arose  naturally 
from  the  two  occasions,  such  exceptions  being  as 
necessary  to  the  subject  of  our  present  conference,  as 
they  would  have  been  superfluous  and  unseasonable 
in  the  former. 

Now  the  difference  in  these  two  conversations  is 
precisely  the  distinction  to  be  taken  in  interpreting 
those  passages  of  scripture,  concerning  which  we  are 
debating.  They  inculcate  the  duty,  they  do  not  de- 
scribe the  extent  of  it.  They  enforce  the  obligation 
by  the  proper  sanctions  of  Christianty,  without  in- 
tending either  to  enlarge  or  contract,  without  con- 
sidering indeed  the  limits  by  which  it  is  bounded. 
This  is  also  the  method,  in  which  the  same  Apostles 
enjoin  the  duty  of  servants  to  their  ma  ter.«,  of  chil- 
dren to  their  parents,  of  wives  to  their  husbands. 
*'  Servants,  be  subject  to  your  masters." — "  Children, 
obey  your  parents  in  all  things." — "  Wives,  submit 
yourselves  unto  your  own  husbands."  The  same 
concise  and  absolute  form  of  expres  ion  occurs  in  all 
these  precepts ;  the  same  silence,  as  to  any  exceptions 
or  distinctions ;  yet  no  one  doubts,  but  that  the  com- 
mands of  masters,  parents,  and  husbands,  are  often 
so  immoderate,  unjust,  and  inconsi>tent  with  other 
obligations,  that  they  both  may  and  ought  to  be  re- 
sisted. In  letters  or  dissertations  written  professedly 
upon  separate  articles  of  morality,  we  might  with 
more  reason  have  looked  for  a  precise  delienation  of 
our  duty,  and  some  degree  of  modern  accuracy  in 
the  rules  which  were  laid  down  for  our  direction ; 
but  in  those  short  collections  of  practical  maxims, 
which  compose  the  conclusion,  or  some  small  portion, 
of  a  doctrinal  of  perhaps  controversial  epistle,  we 
cannot  be  surprised  to  find  the  author  more  solicitous 
to  impress  the  duty,  than  curious  to  enumerate  ex- 
ceptions. 

The  consideration  of  this  distinction  is  alone  suffi- 
cient to  vindicate  these  passages  of  scripture  from 
any  explanation,  which  may  be  put  upon  them,  in 
f;ivour  of  an  unlimited  passive  obedience.     But  if  we 


332  Duty  of  Civil  ObedieHce, 

be  permitted  to  assume  a  supposition,  which  many 
commentators  proceed  upon  as  a  certainty,  that  the 
first  Christians  privately  cherished  an  opinion,  that 
their  conversion  to  Christianity  entitled  them  to  new 
immunities,  to  an  exemption  as  of  right  (however 
they  might  give  way  to  necessity)  from  the  authority 
of  the  Roman  sovereign,  we  are  furnished  with  a 
still  more  apt  and  satisfactory  interpretation  of  the 
Apostle's  words.  The  two  passages  apply  with 
great  propriety  to  the  refutation  of  this  error  ;  they 
teach  the  Christian  convert  to  obey  the  magistrate 
"  for  the  Lord's  sake,"—"  not  only  for  wrath,  but  for 
conscience  sake  ;" — "  that  there  is  no  power  but 
of  God  ;" — "  that  the  powers  that  be,"  even  the  pres- 
ent rulers  of  the  Roman  empire,  though  heathens 
and  usurpers,  seeing  they  are  in  possession  of  the  actu- 
al and  necessary  authority  of  civil  government,  "  are 
ordained  of  God,"  and,  consequently,  entitled  to  re- 
ceive obedience  from  those  who  profess  themselves 
the  peculiar  servants  of  God,  in  a  greater  (certainly 
not  in  a  less)  degree,  than  from  any  others.  They 
briefly  describe  the  office  of  civil  governors,  "  the 
punishment  of  evil  doers,  and  the  praise  of  them  that 
do  well ;"  from  which  description  of  the  use  of  gov- 
ernment, they  justly  infer  the  duty  of  subjection, 
which  duty,  being  as  extensive  as  the  reason  upon 
which  it  is  founded,  belongs  to  Christians  no  less 
than  to  the  heathen  members  of  the  community. 
If  it  be  admitted,  that  the  two  Apostles  wrote  with  a 
view  to  this  particular  question,  it  will  be  confessed, 
that  their  words  cannot  be  transferred  to  a  question 
totally  different  from  this,  with  any  certainty  of  car- 
rying along  with  us  their  authority  and  intention. 
There  exists  no  resemblance  bf^tween  the  case  of  a 
primitive  convert,  who  di>puted  the  jurisdiction  of 
the  Roman  government  over  a  disciple  of  Christian- 
ity, and  his,  who,  acknowledging  the  general  author- 
ity of  the  state  over  all  its  subjects,  doubts,  whether 
that  authority  be  not,  in  some  important  branch  of 
it,  so  ill  constituted  or  abused,  as  to  warrant  the  en- 
deavours of  the  people  to  bring  about  a  reformatioiv 


as  stated  in  the  Scriptures,  3S3 

by  force ;  nor  can  we  judge  what  reply  the  Apostles 
would  have  made  to  this  second  question,  if  it  had 
been  proposed  to  them,  from  any  thing  they  have 
•delivered  upon  the  first ;  any  more  than  in  the  two 
consultations  above  det;cribed,  it  could  be  known  be- 
forehand, what  I  would  .say  in  the  latter,  from  the 
answer  which  I  gave  to  the  former. 

The  only  defect  in  this  account  is,  that  neither  the 
scriptures,  nor  any  subsequent  history  of  the  early 
ages  of  the  church,  furnish  any  direct  attestation  of 
the  existence  of  such  disaffected  sentiments  amongst 
the  primitive  converts.  They  supply  indeed  some 
circumstances,  which  render  probable  the  opinion, 
that  extravagant  notions  of  the  political  rights  of  the 
Chri  tian  state  were  at  that  time  entertained  by  many 
proselytes  to  the  religion.  From  the  question  pro- 
posed to  Christ,  "  Is  it  lawful  to  give  tribute  unto 
Ceesar  ?'*  it  may  be  presumed  that  doubts  had  been 
started  in  the  Jewish  schools  concerning  the  obliga- 
tion, or  even  the  lawfulness,  of  submission  to  the  Ro- 
man yoke.  The  accounts  delivered  by  Josephus,  of 
various  insurrections  of  the  Jews  of  that  and  the  fol- 
lowing age,  excited  by  this  principle,  or  upon  this 
pretence,  confirm  the  presumption.  Now,  as  the 
Christians  were  at  first  chiefly  taken  from  the  Jews, 
confounded  with  them  by  the  rest  of  the  world,  and, 
from  the  affinity  of  the  two  religions,  apt  to  inter- 
mix the  doctrines  of  both,  it  is  not  to  be  wondered 
at,  that  a  tenet,  so  flattering  to  the  self-importance  of 
those  who  embraced  it,  should  have  been  communi- 
cated to  the  new  institution.  Again,  the  teachers  of 
Christianity,  ajnongst  the  privileges  which  their  re- 
ligion conferred  upon  its  professors,  were  wont  to 
extol  the  "  liberty  into  which  they  were  called" — "  in 
which  Christ  had  made  them  free."  This  liberty, 
which  was  intended  of  a  deliveiance  from  the  vari- 
ous servitude,  in  which  they  had  heretofore  lived 
to  the  domination  of  sinful  passions,  to  the  supersti- 
tion of  the  Gentile  idolatry,  or  the  incumbered  ritu- 
al of  the  Jewish  dispensation,  might  by  some  be  in- 
terpreted to   signify  an  eoaajicipation   from  all    re- 


S34  Duty  of  Civil  Obedience. 

straint,  which  was  imposed  by  an  authority  merely 
human.  At  least  they  might  be  represented  by  their 
enemies  as  maintaining  notions  of  this  dangerous 
tendency.  To  some  error  or  calumny  of  this  kind, 
the  words  of  St.  Peter  seem  to  allude  :  "  For  so  is 
the  will  of  God,  that  with  well  doing  ye  may  put 
to  silence  the  ignorance  of  foolish  men :  a?  free,  and 
not  using  your  liberty  for  a  cloak  of  maliciousnevSS, 
(i.  e.  sedition)  but  as  the  servants  of  God.'*  After 
all,  if  any  one  think  this  conjecture  too  feebly  .sub- 
ported  by  testimony,  to  be  relied  upon  in  the  inter- 
pretation of  scripture,  he  will  then  revert  to  the  con- 
siderations alleged  in  the  preceding  part  of  this 
Chapter. 

After  so  copious  an  account  of  what  we  apprehend 
to  be  the  general  design  and  doctrine  of  these  much 
agitated  passages,  little  need  be  added  in  explanation, 
of  particular  clauses.  St.  Paul  has  said,  "  Whosoever 
resisteth  the  power,  resisteth  the  ordinance  of  God." 
This  phrase,  "  the  ordinance  of  God,"  is  by  many  so 
interpreted,  as  to  authorize  the  most  exalted  and  su- 
perstitious ideas  of  the  regal  character.  But,  surely, 
such  interpreters   have  sacrificed  truth  to  adulation. 

For,  in  the  first  place,  the  expression,  as  used  by  St. 
Paul,  is  just  as  applicable  to  one  kind  of  government, 
and  to  one  kind  of  succession,  as  to  another — to  the 
elective  magitrates  of  a  pure  republic,  as  to  an  abso- 
lute hereditary  monarch.  In  the  next  place,  it  is 
not  affirmed  of  the  supreme  magistrate  exclusively, 
that  he  is  the  ordinance  of  God  ;  the  title,  whatever 
it  imports,  belongs  to  every  inferior  officer  of  the 
state  as  much  as  to  the  highest.  The  divine  right  of 
kings  is,  like  the  divine  right  of  other  magistrates — 
the  law  of  the  land,  or  even  actual  and  quiet  posses- 
sion of  their  office  ;  a  right  ratified,  we  humbly  pre- 
sume, by  the  divine  approbation,  so  long  as  obedi- 
ence to  their  authority  appears  to  be  necessary  or  con- 
ducive to  the  common  welfare.  Princes  are  ordain- 
ed of  God  by  virtue  only  of  that  general  decree,  by. 
which  he  assents,  and  adds  the  sanction  of  his  will,  to 
every  law  of  society,  which  promotes  his  own  pur» 


Civil  Ltbejty.  335 

pose,  the  communication  of  human  happiness  :  ac« 
cording  to  which  idea  of  their  origin  and  constitu- 
tion, (and  without  any  repugnancy  to  the  words  of 
St.  Paul)  they  are  by  St.  Peter  denominated  the  or- 
dinance  of  man. 


CHAPTER   V. 
OF  CIVIL  LIBERTY. 

C4IVIL  liberty  is  the  not  being  restrained  by  any 
Laiv^  but  what  conduces  in  a  greater  degree  to  the  pub- 
lic welfare. 

To  do  what  we  will  is  natural  liberty  ;  to  do  what 
we  will,  consistently  with  the  interest  of  the  commu- 
nity to  which  we  belong,  is  civil  liberty  ;  that  is  to  say, 
the  only  liberty  to  be  de  ired  in  a  state  of  civil  society. 

I  should  wish,  no  doubt,  to  be  allowed  to  act  in  ev- 
ery instance  as  I  pleased ;  but  I  reflect  that  the  rest  al- 
so of  mankind  would  then  do  the  same  ;  in  which 
state  of  universal  independence  and  self- direction,  I 
should  meet  with  so  many  checks  and  obstacles  to 
my  own  will,  from  the  interference  and  opposition 
of  other  men's,  that  not  only  my  happiness,  but  my 
liberty,  would  be  less,  than  whilst  the  whole  commu- 
nity were  subject  to  the  dominion  of  equal  laws. 

The  boasted  liberty  of  a  state  of  nature  exists  only 
in  a  state  of  solitude.  In  every  kind  and  degree  of 
union  and  intercourse  with  his  species,  it  is  possible 
that  the  liberty  of  the  individual  may  be  augmented 
by  the  very  laws  which  restrain  it  :  because  he  may 
gain  more  from  the  limitation  of  other  men's  free- 
dom than  he  suffers  by  the  diminution  of  his  own. 
Natural  liberty  is  the  right  of  common  upon  a  waste; 
civil  liberty  is  the  safe,  exclusive,  unmolested  enjoy* 
ment  of  a  cultivated  inclosure, 

I'he  defmition  of  civil  liberty  above  laid  down,  im- 
ports that  the  laws  of  a  free  people  impose  no  restraint 
upon  the  private  will  of  the  subject,  which  do  not 
conduce  in  a  greater  degree  to  the  public  happiness : 

T  T 


336  Civil  Libcny. 

by  which  it  is  intimated,  1.  that  restraint  itself  is 
an  evil  ;  2.  that  this  evil  ought  to  be  overbalanced 
bv  some  public  advantage  ;  3.  that  the  proof  of  this 
advantage  lies  upon  the  legislature ;  4.  that  a  law  be- 
ing found  to  produce  no  sensible  good  effects,  is  a 
sufficient  reason  for  repealing  it,  as  adverse  and  inju- 
rious to  the  rights  of  a  free  citizen,  without  demand- 
ing specific  evidence  of  its  bad  effects.  This  maxim 
might  be  remembered  with  advantage  in  a  revision 
of  many  laws  of  this  country  ;  especially  of  the  game 
laws  J  of  the  poor  laws,  so  far  as  they  lay  restrictions 
upon  the  poor  themselves — of  the  laws  against  papists 
and  dissenters  :  and,  amongst  people  enamoured  to 
excess  and  jealous  of  their  liberty,  it  seems  a  matter 
of  surprise  that  this  principle  has-been  so  imperfectly 
jittended  to. 

The  degree  of  actual  liberty  always  bearing,  ac- 
cording to  this  account  of  it,  a  reversed  proportion 
to  the  number  and  severity  of  the  restrictions  which 
are  either  useless,  or  the  utility  of  which  does  not 
outweigh  the  evil  of  the  restraint ;  it  follows  that 
every  nation  possesses  some,  no  nation  perfect  liber- 
ty ;•  that  this  liberty  may  be  enjoyed  under  every 
form  of  government ;  that  it  may  be  impaired  in- 
deed, or  increased,  but  that  it  is  neither  gained,  nor 
lost,  nor  recovered,  by  any  single  regulation,  change, 
or  event  whatever  ;  that,  consequently,  those  popu- 
lar phrases  which  speak  of  a  free  people  ;  of  a  nation 
of  slaves  ;  which  call  one  revolution  the  era  of  lib- 
erty; or  another  the  loss  of  it;  with  many  expressions 
ot  a  like  absolute  form,  are  intelligible  only  in  a 
comparative  sense. 

Heiice  also  we  are  enabled  to  apprehend  the  dis- 
tinction hexween personal  and  cii>il  liberty.  A  citizen 
of  the  freest  republic  in  the  world  may  be  imprison- 
ed for  his  crimes  ;  and  though  his  personal  freedoni 
be  restrained  by  bolts  and  fetters,  so  long  as  his  con- 
iinement  is  the  effect  of  a  beneticial  public  law,  his 
civil  liberty  is  not  invaded.  If  this  instance  appear 
dubious,  the  following  will  be  plainer.  A  passenger 
kom  the   Levant,  who,  upon  his  return  to  England., 


Civil  Liberty,  337 

should  be  conveyed  to  a  lazaretto  by  an  order  of 
quarantine,  with  whatever  impatience  he  might  de- 
sire his  enlargement,  and  though  he  saw  a  guard 
placed  at  the  door  to  oppose  his  escape,  or  even 
/I'eady  to  destroy  his  life  if  he  attempted  it,  would 
hardly  accuse  government  of  encroaching  upon  his 
civil  freedom ;  nay,  might,  perhaps,  be  all  the  while 
congratulating  himself  that  he  had  at  length  set  his 
foot  again  in  a  land  of  liberty.  The  manifest  expe- 
diency of  the  measure  not  only  juNtifies  it,  but  rec- 
onciles the  most  odious  confinement  with  the  perfect 
possession,  and  the  loftiest  notions  of  civil  liberty. 
And  if  this  be  true  of  the  coercion  of  a  prison,  that 
It  is  compatible  with  a  state  of  civil  freedom,  it  cannot 
with  reason  be  disputed  of  those  more  moderate  con- 
straints which  the  ordinary  operation  of  government 
imposes  upon  the  v^ill  of  the  individual.  It  is  not 
the  rigor,  but  the  inexpediency  of  laws  and  acts  of 
authority,  v^^hich  makes  them  tyrannical. 

There  is  another  idea  of  civil  liberty,  which,  though 
neither  so  simple,  nor  so  accurate  as  the  former, 
agrees  better  with  the  signification,  which  the  usage 
of  common  discourse,  as  well  as  the  example  of  many 
respectable  writers  upon  the  subject,  has  affixed  to 
the  term.  This  idea  places  liberty  in  security  ;  mak- 
ing it  to  consist  not  merely  in  an  actual  exemption 
from  the  constraint  of  useless  and  noxious  laws  and 
acts  of  dominion,  but  in  being  free  from  the  danger 
of  having  any  such  hereafter  imposed  or  exercised. 
Thus,  speaking  of  the  political  state  of  modern  Eu- 
rope, we  are  accustomed  to  say  of  Sweden,  that  shp 
hath  lost  her  liberty  by  the  revolution  which  lately 
took  place  in  that  country  ;  and  yet  we  are  assured 
that  the  people  continue  to  be  governed  by  the  same 
laws  as  before,  or  by  others  which  are  wiser,  milder, 
and  more  equitable.  What  then  have  they  lost  ? 
They  have  lost  the  power  and  functions  of  their  di- 
et ;  the  constitution  of  their  states  and  orders,  whose 
deliberations  and  concurrence  were  required  in  the 
formation  and  establishment  of  every  public  law; 
a.nd  thereby  have  parted  with  the  security  which 


33S  Civil  Liberty, 

they  possessed  against  any  attempts  of  the  crown  to 
harrass  its  subjects,  by  oppressive  and  useless  exertions 
of  prerogative.  The  loss  of  this  security  wc  denom- 
inate the  loss  of  liberty.  They  have  cliangcd  not 
their  lau's,  but  their  legislature  ;  not  their  enjoy- 
ment, but  their  safety  ;  not  their  present  burthens, 
but  their  prospects  of  future  grievances  :  and  this 
we  pronounce  a  change  from  the  condition  of  free- 
men  to  that  of  slaves.  In  like  manner,  in  our  own 
country,  the  act  of  parliament,  in  the  reign  of  Henry 
the  Eighth,  which  gave  to  the  king^s  proclamation  the 
force  of  law,  hps  properly  been  called  a  complete  and 
formal  surrender  of  the  liberty  of  the  nation  ;  and 
would  have  been  so,  although  no  proclamation  were 
issued  in  pursuance  of  these  new  powers,  or  none  but 
what  was  recommended  by  the  highest  wisdom  and 
utility.  The  security  was  gone.  Were  it  probable, 
that  the  welfare  and  accommodation  of  the  people 
would  be  as  studiously,  and  as  providently  consult- 
ed in  the  edicts  of  a  despotic  prince,  as  by  the  resolu- 
tions of  a  popular  assembly,  then  would  an  absolute 
form  of  government  be  no  less  free  than  the  purest 
democracy.  The  different  degree  of  care  'and  know- 
edge  of  the  public  interest  which  may  reasonably  be 
expected  from  the  different  form  and  composition  of 
the  legislature,  constitutes  the  distinction,  in  respect 
of  liberty,  as  well  between  the^e  two  extremes,  as  be- 
tween all  the  intermediate  modifications  of  civil  gov- 
ernment. 

The  definitions  which  have  been  framed  of  civil 
liberty,  and  which  have  become  the  subject  of  much 
unnecessary  altercation,  are  most  of  them  adapted  to 
this  idea.  Thus  one  political  writer  makes  the  very 
essence  of  the  subject's  liberty  to  consist  in  his  being 
governed  by  no  laws  but  those  to  which  he  hath  ac- 
tually consented  ;  another  is  satisfied  with  an  indi- 
rect and  virtual  consent,  another  again  places  civil 
liberty  in  the  separation  of  the  legislative  and  execu- 
tive offices  of  government ;  another  in  the  being 
governed  by  laiv,  that  is,  by  known,  preconstituted, 
inflexible  rules  of  action  and  adjudication  j  a  fifth  in 


Chi?  Liberty.  339 

the  exclusive  right  of  the  people  to  tax  themselves  by 
their  own  representatives ;  a  sixth  in  the  freedom 
and  purity  of  elections  of  representatives ;  a  seventh 
in  the  control  which  the  democratic  part  of  the  con- 
stitution possesses  over  the  military  establishment. 
Concerning  which,  and  some  other  similar  a^ccounts 
of  civil  liberty,  it  may  be  observed,  that  they  all  la- 
bour under  one  inaccuracy,  viz.  that  they  describe 
not  so  much  liberty  itself,  as  the  safe-guards  and  pre- 
servatives of  liberty  :  for  example,  a  man's  being  gov- 
erned by  no  laws,  but  those  to  which  he  has  given 
his  consent,  w^re  it  practicable,  is  no  otherwise  neces- 
sary to  the  enjoyment  of  civil  liberty,  than  as  it 
affords  a  probable  security  against  the  dictation  of 
laws,  imposing  superfluous  restrictions  upon  his  pri- 
vate will.  This  remark  is  applicable  to  the  rest. 
The  diversity  of  these  definitions  will  not  surprise  u'?, 
when  we  consider  that  there  is  no  contrariety  or  op- 
position amongst  them  whatever  ;  for,  by  how  many 
different  provisions  and  precautions  civil  liberty  is 
fenced  and  protected,  so  many  diiterent  accounts  of 
liberty  itself,  all  sufficiently  consistent  with  truth  and 
with  each  other,  may,  according  to  this  mode  of  ex- 
plaining the  term,  be  framed  and  adopted. 

Truth  cannot  be  oiTenucd  by  a  definition,  but  pro- 
priety may.  In  which  view  those  definitions  of  lib- 
rerty  ought  to  be  rejected,  which,  by  making  that  es~ 
sential  to  civil  freedom  which  is  unattainable  in  ex- 
perience, inflame  expectations  that  can  never  be  grati- 
fied, and  disturb  the  public  content  with  complaints, 
which  no  wisdom  or  benevojence  of  government  can 
remove. 

It  will  not  be  thought  extraordinary,  that  an  idea, 
which  occurs  so  much  oftener  as  the  subject  of  pan- 
egyric and  careless  declamation,  than  of  just  reason- 
ing or  correct  knowledge,  should  be  attended  with 
uncertainty  and  confusion  ;  or  that  it  should  be  found 
impossible  to  contrive  a  definition,  which  may  include 
the  numerous,  unsettled,  and  ever  varying  significa- 
tions, which  the  term  is  made  to  stand  for,  and  at  the 
same  time  accord  with  the  condition  and  experience 
of  social,  life. 


340  Of  different  Fonm 

Of  the  two  Ideas  that  have  been  stated  of  civil  lib' 
erty,  whichever  we  assume,  and  whatever  reasoning 
we  tound  upon  them,  concerning  its  extent,  nature, 
value  and  preservation,  this  is  the  conclusion — that 
that  people,  government,  and  constitution,  is  the 
freest^  which  makes  the  best  provision  for  the  enact» 
ing  of  expedient  and  salutary  laws. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

OF  DIFFERENT  FORMS  OF  GOVERNMENT, 

As  a  series  of  appeals  must  be  finite,  there 
necessarily  exists  in  every  government  a  power  from 
which  the  constitution  has  provided  no  appeal  j  and 
which  power,  for  that  reason,  may  be  termed  abso- 
lute, omnipotent,  uncontrollable,  arbitrary,  despotic  ; 
and  is  alike  so  in  all  countries. 

The  person,  or  assembly,  in  whom  this  power  re- 
sides, is  called  ihe  sovereign,  or  the  supreme  power  of 
the  state. 

Since  to  the  same  power  universally  appertains  the 
office  of  establishing  public  laws,  it  is  called  also  the 
legidature  of  the  state. 

A  government  receives  its  denomination  from  the 
form  of  the  legislature  ;  which  form  is  likewise  what 
we  commonly  mean  by  the  constitution  of  a  country. 

Political  writers  enumerate  three  principal  forms 
of  government,  which,  however,  are  to  be  regarded 
rather  as  the  simple  forms,  by  some  combination  and 
intermixture  of  which  all  actual  governments  are  com- 
posed, ti  an  as  any  where  existing  in  a  pure  and  ele- 
mentary state.     These  forms  are  : 

I.  Despotism,  or  absolute  monarchy,  where  the 
legislature  is  in  a  single  person. 

II.  An  ARISTOCRACY,  whcre  the  legislature  is  in 
a  select  assembly,  the  members  of  which  either  fill  up 
by  election  the  vacancies  in  their  own  body,  or  suc- 
ceed to  their  places  in  It  by  inheritance,  property,  ten- 
ure of  certain  lands,  or  in  respect  of  some  personal 
right  or  qualification. 


of  Government,  34 1 

in.    A  REPUBLIC,  or  democracy,  where  the  people 
at  large,  either  collectively  or  by  representation,  con- 
^  stitute  the  legislature. 

The  separate  advantages  of  monarchy  are,  unity 
of  council,  activity,  decision,  secrecy,  dispatch  ;  the 
military  strength  and  energy  which  result  from  these 
qualities  of  government ;  the  exclusion  of  popular 
and  aristocratical  contentions ;  the  preventing,  by  a 
known  rule  of  succesison,  of  all  competition  for  the 
supreme  power ;  and  thereby  repressing  the  hopes,  in- 
trigues, and  dangerou>  ambition  of  aspiring  citizens. 

The  mischiefs,  or  rather  the  dangers  of  monarchy 
are,  tyranny,  expense,  exaction,  military  domina- 
tion ;  unnecessary  wars  waged  to  gratify  the  passions 
of  an  individual ;  risk  of  the  character  of  the  reign- 
ing prince ;  ignorance  in  the  governors  of  the  in- 
terests and  accommodation  of  the  people,  and  a  con- 
sequent deficiency  of  salutary  regulations  ;  want  of 
constancy  and  uniformity  in  the  rules  of  govern- 
ment, and,  proceeding  from  thence,  insecurity  of 
person  and  property. 

The  separate  advantage  of  an  aristocracy  con- 
sists in  the  wisdom  which  may  be  expected  from  ex- 
perience and  education— a  permanent  council  natu- 
rally possesses  experience  ;  .  and  the  members,  who 
succeed  to  their  places  in  it  by  inheritance,  will,  prob- 
ably, be  trained  and  educated  with  a  view  to  the  sta- 
tions, which  they  are  destined  by  their  birth  to  occupy. 

The  mischiefs  of  an  aristocracy  are,  dissensions 
in  the  ruling  orders  of  the  state,  which,  from  the 
want  of  a  common  superior,  are  liable  to  proceed  tc 
the  most  desperate  extremities  ;  oppression  of  the  low- 
er orders  by  the  privileges  of  the  higher,  and  by  laws 
partial  to  the  separate  interests  of  the  law  makers. 

The  advantages  of  a  republic  are,  liberty,  orex- 
emption  from  needless  restrictions  ;  equal  laws  ;  reg- 
ulations adapted  to  the  wants  and  circumsrances  of 
the  people  ;  public  spirit,  frugality,  averseness  to 
war  ;  the  opportunities  which  democratic  assemblies 
afford  to  men  of  every.description,  of  producing  their 
abilities  and  counsels  to  public  obsGrvatioDj  and  the 


-J4ii  Of  different  Forms 

exciting  thereby,  and  calling  forth  to  the  service  of 
the  commonwealth,  the  faculties  of  its  best  citizens. 

The  evils  of  a  republic  are,  dissention,.  tumults, 
faction  ^  the  attempts  of  powerful  citizens  to  pos- 
vSess  themselves  of  the  empire  ;  the  confusion,  rage, 
and  clamour,  which  are  the  inevitable  consequences 
of  assembling  multitudes,  and  of  propounding  ques- 
tions of  state  to  the  discussion  of  the  people  ;  the  de- 
lay and  disclosure  of  public  counsels  and  designs  ; 
and  the  imbecility  of  measures  retarded  by  the  ne- 
cessity of  obtaining  the  consent  of  numbers  ;  lastly, 
the  oppression  of  the  provinces  v/hich  are  not  admit- 
ted to  a  participation  in  the  legislative  power. 

A  7?2/;s!;^<i  government  is  composed  by  the  combina- 
tion of  two  or  more  of  the  simple  forms  of  government 
above  described  ;  and,  in  whatever  proportion  each 
form  enters  into  the  constitution  of  a  government, 
in  the  same  proportion  may  both  the  advantages  and 
evils,  w^hich  we  have  attributed  to  that  form,  be  ex- 
pected \  that  is,  those  are  the  uses  to  be  maintained  and 
cultivated  in  each  part  of  the  constitution,  and  these 
are  the  dangers  to  be  provided  against  in  each. 
Thus,  if  secrecy  and  dispatch  be  truly  enumerated 
amongst  the  separate  excellences  of  regal  govern- 
ment ;  then  a  mixed  goyernment,  which  retains 
monarchy  in  one  part  of  its  constitution,  should  be 
careful  that  the  other  estates  of  the  empire  do  not,  by 
an  officiou!^  and  inquisitive  interference  with  the  ex- 
ecutive functions,  which  are,  or  ought  to  be,  reserv- 
ed to  the  administration  of  the  priuce,  hiterpose  de- 
lays, or  divulge  what  it  is  expedient  to  conceal.  On 
the  other  hand,  if  profusion,  exaction,  military  dom* 
inafion  and  needless  wars,  be  justly  accounted  nat- 
ural properties  of  monarchy,  in  its  simple, unqualified 
form  ;  then  are  these  the  objects  to  which,  in  a  mix- 
ed government,  the  ari  .toc.ratic  and  popular  parts  of 
the  constitution  ought  to  direct  their  vigilance  \  the 
dangers  against  which  they  should  raise  and  fortify 
their  barriers  :  these  are  departments  of  sovereignty, 
over  which  a  power  of  inspection  and  control  ought 
to  be  deposited  with  the  people. 


efGo'vernment,  343 

The  same  observation  may  be  repeated  of  all  the 
other  advantages  and  inconveniences  which  have 
been  ascribed  to  the  several  simple  forms  of  govern- 
ment ;  and  aifords  a  rule  whereby  to  direct  the  con- 
struction, impovements,  and  administration  of  mix- 
ed governments,  subjected  however  to  this  remark, 
that  a  quality  sometimes  results  from  the  conjunc- 
tion of  two  simple  forms  of  government,  which  be- 
longs not  to  the  separate  existence  of  either :  thus 
corruption,  which  has  no  place  in  an  absolute  mon- 
archy, and  little  in  a  pure  republic,  is  sure  to  gain 
admission  into  a  constitution,  which  divides  the  su- 
preme power  between  an  executive  magistrate  and  a 
popular  council. 

An  hereditary  monarchy  is  universally  to  be  pre- 
ferred to  an  f/f^//^'£' monarchy.  The  confession  of  ev- 
ry  writer  upon  the  subject  of  civil  government,  the 
experience  of  ages,  the  example  of  Poland,  and  of 
the  papal  dominions,  seem  to  place  this  amongst  the 
few  indubitable  maxims  which  the  science  of  politics 
admits  of.  A  crown  is  too  splendid  a  prize  to  be 
conferred  upon  merit.  The  passions  or  interests  of 
the  electors  exclude  all  consideration  of  the  qualities 
ot  the  competitors.  The  same  observation  holds 
concerning  the  appointments  to  any  office  which  is  at- 
tended with  a  great  share  of  power  or  emolument. 
Nothing  is  gained  by  a  popular  choice  worth  the 
dissentions,  tumults,  and  interruption  of  regular  in- 
dustry, with  which  it  is  inseparably  attended.  Add 
to  this,  that  a  king,  who  owes  his  elevation  to  the 
event  of  a  contest,  or  to  any  other  cause  than  a  fixed 
rule  of  succession,  will  be  apt  to  regard  one  part  of 
his  subjects  as  the  associates  of  his  fortune,  and  the 
other  as  conquered  foes.  Nor  should  it  be  forgot- 
ten, amongst  the  advantages  of  an  hereditary  mon- 
archy, that  as  plans  of  national  improvement  and  re- 
form are  seldom  brought  to  maturity  by  the  exer- 
tions of  a  single  reign,  a  nation  cannot  attain  to  the 
degree  of  happiness  and  prosperity  to  which  it  is  capa- 
ble of  being  carried,  unless  an  uniformity  of  counsels, 
\  consistency  of  public  measures  and  designs  be  con- 
u  u 


344  Of  different  Form:; 

tinued  through  a  succession  of  ages.  This  beneht 
may  be  expected  with  greater  probability,  where  the 
supreme  power  descends  in  the  same  race,  and  where 
each  priace  succeeds,  in  some  sort,  to  the  aim,  pur- 
suits, and  disposition  of  his  ancestor,  than  if  the  crown, 
at  every  change,  devolve  upon  a  stranger,  whose  fi'st 
care  will  commonly  be  to  pull  down  what  his  prede- 
cessor had  built  up  ;  and  to  substitute  systems  of  ad- 
ministration, which  must,  in  their  turn,  give  way  to 
the  more  favourite  novelties  of  the  next  successor. 

Aristocracie  .  are  of  two  kinds:  first,  where  the 
power  of  the  nobility  belongs  to  them  in  their  col- 
lective capacity  alone  ;  that  is,  where,  although  the 
government  reside  in  an  assembly  of  the  order,  yet 
the  members  of  that  assembly  separately  and  individ- 
ually possess  no  authority  or  privilege  beyond  the  rest 
of  the  community  : — -this  describes  the  constitution 
of  Venice^  Secondly,  where  the  nobles  are  severally 
invested  with  great  personal  power  and  immunities, 
and  where  the  power  of  the  senate  is  little  more 
than  the  aggregated  power  of  the  individuals  who 
compose  it  : — this  is  the  constitution  of  Poland.  Of 
these  two  forms  of  government,  the  first  is  more 
tolerable  than  the  last ;  for  although  the  members 
of  a  senate  should  many,  or  even  all  of  them,  be 
profligate  enough  to  abuse  the  authority  of  their 
stations  in  the  prosecution  of  private  designs,  yet, 
not  being  all  under  a  temptation  to  the  same  injus- 
tice, not  having  all  the  same  end  to  gain,  it  would 
still  be  difficult  to  obtain  the  consent  of  a  majority, 
to  any  specific  act  of  oppression,  which  the  iniquity 
of  an  individual  might  prompt  him  to  propose  ;  or 
if  the  wiW  were  the  same,  th(S  power  is  more  confin- 
ed ;  one  tyrant,  whether  the  tyranny  reside  in  a  sin- 
gle person,  or  a  senate,  canmn  exercise  oppression  at 
so  many  places  at  the  same  time,  as  it  may  be  carried 
on  by  the  dominion  of  a  numerous  nobility  over  their 
respective  vassals  and  dependants.  Of  all  species  of 
domination,  this  is  the  most  odious :  the  freedom 
and  satisfaction  of  private  life  are  more  constrained 
and  barrassed  by  it,  than  by  the  most  vexatious  law, 


o 

of  Government.  345 

ar  even  by  the  lawless  will  of  an  arbitrary  monarch  j 
from  whose  knowledge,  and  from  whose  injustice, 
the  greatest  part  of  his  subjects  are  removed  by  their 
distance,  or  concealed  by  their  obscurity. 

Europe  exhibits  more  than  one  modern  example, 
where  the  people,  aggrieved  by  the  exactions,  or 
provoked  by  the  enormities,  of  their  immediate 
superiors,  have  joined  with  the  reigning  prince  in  the 
overthrow  of  the  aristocracy,  deliberately  exchanging 
their  condition  for  the  miseries  of  despotism.  About 
the  middle  of  the  last  centurv,  the  commons  of  Den- 
mark,  weary  of  the  oppressions  which  they  had  long 
suffered  from  the  nobles,  and  exasperated  by  some 
recent  insults,  presented  themselves  at  the  foot  of 
the  throne,  with  a  formal  offer  of  their  consent  to 
establish  unlimited  dominion  in  the  king.  The  rev- 
olution in  Sweden,  still  more  lately  brought  about 
with  the  acquiescence,  not  to  say  the  assistance  of  the 
{>eople  ;  owed  its  success  to  the  same  cause,  namely, 
to  the  prospect  of  deliverance,  that  it  afforded,  from 
the  tyranny  Vv^hich  their  nobles  exercised  under  the 
old  constitution.  In  England  the  peerple  beheld  the 
depression  of  the  Barons,  under  the  house  of  Tudor, 
with  satisfaction,  although  they  saw  the  crowa 
acquiring  thereby  a  power,  which  no  limitations, 
that  the  constitution  had  then  pirovided,  were  hkely 
to  confine.  The  lesson  to  be  drawn  from  such  events 
is  this,  that  a  mixed  government,  w-hich  admits  a 
patrician  order  into  its  constitution,  ought  to  circum- 
scribe the  personal  privileges  of  the  nobility,  especial- 
ly claims  of  hereditary  jurisdiction  and  local  authori- 
ty, with  a  jealousy  equal  to  the  solicitude  with  wdiich 
it  Vv^ishes  its  awn  preservation.  For  nothing  so 
alienates  the  minds  of  the-  people  from  the  govern- 
ment under  which  they  live,  by  a  perpetual  sense  of 
annoyance  and  inconveniency  ;  or  so  prepares  them 
for  the  pactices  of  an  enterprising  prince  or  a  fac- 
tious demagogue,  as  the  abuse  which  almost  always 
accompanies  the  existence  of  separate  immunities. 

Amongst  the  inferior,  but  by  no  means  inconsider- 
ble  advantages  of  aDEMocR  atic  constitution,  or  of  a 


346  Of  different  Forms 

constitution  in  which  the  people  partake  of  the  powei' 
of  legislation,  the  following  should  not  be  neglected  : 

I.  The  direction  which  it  gives  to  the  education, 
studies,  and  pursuits  of  the  superior  orders  of  the 
community.  The  share  which  this  has  in  forming 
the  pubhc  manners  and  national  character  is  very 
important.  In  countries  in  which  the  gentry  are  ex- 
cluded from  all  concern  in  the  government,  scarce 
any  thing  is  left  which  leads  to  advancement,  but 
the  profession  of  arms.  They  who  do  not  addict 
themselves  to  this  profession  (and  miserable  must 
that  country  be,  which  constantly  employs  the  mili- 
tary service  of  a  great  proportion  of  any  order  of 
its  subjects)  are  commonly  lost  by  the  mere  want  of 
object  and  destination  ;  that  is,  they  either  fall,  with- 
out reserve,  into  the  most  sottish  habits  of  animal 
gratification,  or  entirely  devote  themselves  to  the 
attainment  of  those  futile  arts  and  decorations  which 
compose  the  business  and  recommendations  of  a 
court  :  on  the  other  hand,  where  the  whole,  or  any 
effective  portion  of  civil  power  is  possessed  by  a  pop- 
ular assembly,  more  serious  pursuits  will  be  encour- 
aged, purer  morals  and  a  more  intellectual  character 
will  engage  the  public  esteem  ;  those  faculties,  which 
qualify  men  for  deliberation  and  debate,  and  which 
are  the  fruit  of  sober  habits,  of  early  and  long  con- 
tinued application,  will  be  roused  and  animated  by 
the  reward,  which,  of  all  others,  most  readily  awak- 
ens the  ambition  of  the  human  mind,  political  dig- 
nity and  importance. 

II.  Popular  elections  procure  to  the  common  peo- 
ple courtesy  from  their  superiors.  That  contemptu- 
ous and  overbearing  insolence,  with  which  the  low- 
er orders  of  the  community  are  wont  to  be  treated 
by  the  higher,  is  greatly  mitigated  where  the  people 
have  something  to  give.  The  assiduity,  with  which 
their  favour  is  sought  upon  these  occasions,  serves  to 
generate  settled  habits  of  condescension  and  respect ; 
and  as  human  hfe  is  more  embittered  by  affronts 
than  injuries,  whatever  contributes  to  procure  mild- 
ness and  civility  of  manners  towards  those  who  are 


of  Government.  347 

most  liable  to  suffer  from  a  contrary  behaviour,  cor- 
rects, with  the  pride,  in  a  great  measure,  the  evil  of 
inequality,  and  deserves  to  be  accounted  amongst  the 
most  generous  institutions  of  social  life. 

III.  The  satisfactions  which  the  people  in  free  gov- 
ernments derive  from  the  knowledge  and  agitation 
of  political  subjects  ;  such  as  the  proceedings  and  de- 
bate>  of  the  senate  ;  the  conduct  and  characters  of 
ministers  ;  the  revolutions,  intrigues,  and  conten- 
tion of  parties  ;  and,  in  general,  from  the  discus- 
sion of  public  measures,  questions,  and  occurrences. 
Subjects  of  this  sort  excite  just  enough  of  interest 
and  emotion,  to  afford  a  moderate  engagement  to 
the  thoughts,  without  rising  to  any  paintul  degree 
of  anxiety,  or  ever  leaving  a  fixed  oppression  upon 
the  spirits — and  what  is  this,  but  the  end  and  aim 
of  all  those  amusements  which  compose  so  much  of 
the  business  of  life  and  of  the  value  of  riches  ?  For 
my  part,  (and  I  believe  It  to  be  the  case  with  most 
men,  who  are  arrived  at  the  middle  age,  and  occu- 
py the  middle  classes  of  life)  had  I  all  the  money, 
which  I  pay  in  taxes  to  government,  at  liberty  to 
lay  out  upon  amusement  and  diversion,  I  know  not 
whether  I  could  make  choice  of  any,  in  which  I 
could  find  greater  pleasure,  than  what  I  receive  from 
expecting,  hearing,  and  relating  public  news ;  read- 
ing parliamentary  debates  and  proceedings  ;  canvas- 
sing the  political  arguments,  projects,  predictions, 
and  intelligence,  which  are  conveyed,  by  various 
channels,  to  every  corner  of  the  kingdom.  These 
topics,  exciting  universal  curiosity,  and  being  such  as 
almost  every  man  is  ready  to  form,  and  prepared  to 
deliver  his  opinion  about,  greatly  promote,  and,  I 
think,  improve  conversation.  They  render  it  more 
rational  and  more  innocent.  They  supply  a  substi- 
tute for  drinking,  gaming,  scandal,  and  obscenity. 
Now,  the  secrecy,  the  jealousy,  the  solitude  and  pre- 
cipitation of  despotic  governments  exclude  all  this. 
But  the  loss,  you  say,  is  trifling.  I  know  that  it  is 
possible  to  render  even  the  mention  of  it  ridiculous, 
by  representing  it  as  the  idle  employment  of  the  most 


348  (^f  different  Forms  of  Government, 

insignificant  part  of  the  nation,  the  folly  of  village- 
(Statesmen,  and  coffee-house  politicians  :  but  I  allow 
nothing  to  be  a  trifle,  which  ministers  to  the  harm- 
less gratification  of  multitudes  ;  nor  any  order  of 
men  to  be  insignificant,  whose  number  bears  a  respec- 
table proportion  to  the  sum  of  the  whole  community. 
We  have  been  accustomed  to  an  opinion,  that 
a  REPUBLICAN  fomi  of  government  suits  only  with 
the  affairs  of  a  small  state  :  which  opinion  is  founded 
in  the  consideration,  that  unless  the  people,  in  every 
district  of  the  empire,  be  admitted  to  a  share  in  the 
national  representation,  the  government  is  not,  as  to 
ihem,  a  republic  :  that  elections,  where  the  constitu- 
ents are  numerous,  and  dispersed  through  a  wide  ex- 
tent of  country,  are  conducted  with  difficulty,  or 
rather,  indeed,  managed  by  the  intrigues,  and  com- 
bination of  a  few  who  are  situated  near  the  place  of 
election,  each  voter  considering  his  single  suffrage  as 
too  minute  a  portion  of  the  general  interest  to  deserve 
his  care  or  attendance,  much  less  to  be  worth  any 
opposition  to  influence  and  application  ;  that  whilst 
we  contract  the  representation  within  a  compass  small 
enough  to  admit  of  orderly  debate,  the  interest  of 
the  constituent  becomes  too  small,  of  the  representa- 
tive too  great.  It  is  difficult  also  to  maintain  any 
connexion  between  them.  He  who  represents  two 
hundred  thousands,  is  necessarily  a  stranger  to  the 
greatest  part  of  those  who  elect  him  ;  and  when  his 
interest  amongst  them  ceases  to  depend  upon  an  ac- 
quaintance with  their  persons  and  character,  or  a 
care  or  knowledge  of  their  affairs  ;  when  such  a  rep- 
resentative finds  the  treasures  and  honours  of  a  great 
empire  at  the  disposal  of  a  few,  and  himself  one  of 
the  few,  there  is  little  reason  to  hope  that  he  will  not 
prefer  to  his  public  duty,  those  temptations  of  per- 
sonal aggrandizement  which  his  situation  offers,  and 
which  the  price  of  his  vote  will  always  purchase. 
All  appeal  to  the  people  is  precluded  by  the  impossi- 
bility of  collecting  a  sufficient  proportion  of  their 
force  and  numbers.  The  factions,  and  the  unanimi- 
ty of  the  senate,  are  equally  dangerous.      Add  to 


British  Constitution,  S49 

these  considerations,  that  in  a  democratic  constitu- 
tion the  mechanism  is  too  complicated,  and  the  mo- 
t-ions too  slow  for  the  operations  of  a  great  empire  ; 
whose  defence  and  government  require  execution 
and  dispatch,  in  proportion  to  the  magnitude,  ex- 
tent, and  variety  of  its  concerns.  There  is  weight, 
no  doubt,  in  these  reasons  ;  but  much  of  the  objec* 
tion  seems  to  be  done  away  by  the  contrivance  of  a 
federal  republic,  which,  distributing  the  country 
into  districts  of  a  commodious  extent,  and  leaving 
to  each  district  its  internal  legislation,  i*eserves  to  a 
convention  of  the  states,  the  adjustment  of  their  rela- 
tive claims ;  the  levying,  direction  and  government 
of  the  common  force  of  the  confederacy  ;  the  re- 
quisition of  subsidies  for  the  support  of  this  force  ; 
the  making  ot  peace  and  war  ;  the  entering  into 
treaties  ;  the  regulation  of  foreign  commerce  ;  the 
equalization  of  duties  upon  imports,  so  as  to  prevent 
the  defrauding  of  the  revenue  of  one  province  by 
smuggling  articles  of  taxation  from  the  borders  of 
another ;  and  likewise  so  as  to  guard  against  undue 
partialities  in  the  encouragement  of  trade.  To  what 
limits  such  a  republic  might,  without  inconveniency, 
enlarge  its  dominions,  by  assuming  neighbouring  pro» 
vinces  into  the  confederation  ;  or  how  far  it  is  capa- 
ble of  uniting  the  liberty  of  a  small  commonwealth, 
with  the  safety  of  a  powerful  empire ;  or  whetherj 
amongst  co-ordinate  powers,  dissentions  and  jealou- 
sies would  not  be  likely  to  arise,  which,  for  want  of 
a  common  superior,  might  proceed  to  fatal  cxtrem« 
ities,  are  questions,  upon  which  the  records  of  man» 
kind  do  not  authorize  us  to  decide  with  tolerable 
certainty.  The  experiment  is  about  to  be  tried  in 
America  upon  a  large  scale. 


^  CHAPTER  VU. 

OF  THE  BRITISH  CONSTITUTION. 

oY  the  Constitution  of  a  country,  is  meant» 
so  much  of  it§  law  as  relates  to  the  designation  a^d 


350  British  ComUiuiioji,. 

form  of  the  legislature  ;  the  rights  and  functions  of 
the  several  parts  of  the  legislative  body ;  the  con- 
struction, office,  and  jurisdiction  of  courts  of  jus- 
tice. The  constitution  is  one  principal  division,  sec- 
tion, or  title  of  the  code  of  public  laws  ;  distinguish- 
ed from  the  rest  only  by  the  superior  importance  of 
the  subject  of  which  it  treats.  Therefore  the  terms, 
constitutional Rnd  unconstitutional,  me2in  legal  and  illegal. 
The  distinction  and  the  ideas,  vi^hich  these  terms  de- 
note, are  founded  in  the  same  authority  with  the  law 
of  the  land  upon  any  other  subject ;  and  to  be  ascer- 
tained by  the  same  enquiries.  In  England  the  system 
of  public  jurisprudence  is  made  up  of  acts  of  parlia- 
ment, of  decis.sions  of  courts  of  law,  and  of  immemo- 
rial usages  :  consequently,  these  are  the  principles  of 
which  the  English  constitution  itself  consists ;  the 
sources  from  virhich  all  our  knowledge  of  its  nature 
and  limitations  is  to  be  deduced,  and  the  authorities 
to  which  all  appeal  ought  to  be  made,  and  by  which 
every  constitutional  doubt  and  question  can  alone  be 
decided.  This  plain  and  intelligible  definition  is  the 
more  necessary  to  be  preserved  in  our  thoughts,  as 
some  writers  upon  the  subject  absurdly  confound 
what  is  constitutional  with  what  is  expedient ;  pro- 
nouncing forthwith  a  measure  to  be  unconstitution- 
al, which  they  adjudge  in  any  respect  to  be  detriment- 
al  or  dangerous  ;  whilst  others  again  ascribe  a  kind 
of  transcendent  authority,  or  mysterious  sanctity,  to 
the  constitution,  as  if  it  were  founded  in  some  high- 
er original  than  that  which  gives  force  and  obliga- 
tion to  the  ordinary  laws  and  statutes  of  the  realm, 
or  were  inviolable  on  any  other  account  than  its  in- 
trinsic utility.  An  act  of  parliament,  in  England, 
can  never  be  unconstitutional,  in  the  strict  and  prop- 
er acceptation  of  the  term  ;  in  a  lower  sense  it  may, 
vi>^.  when  it  miliates  with  the  spirit,  contradicts  the 
analogy,  or  defeats  the  provision  of  other  laws,  made 
to  regulate  the  form  of  government.  Even  that  fla- 
gitious abuse  of  their  trust,  by  which  a  parliament  of 
Henry  VIII.  conferred  upon  the  king's  proclamation 
the  authority  of  law,  was  unconstitutional  only  in 
this  la^tter  sense. 


Briiish  Constitution,  351 

Most  of  those  who  treat  of  the  British  constitution, 
consider  it  as  a  scheme  of  government  formerly  plan- 
ned and  contrived  by  our  ancestors,  in  some  certain 
era  of  our  national  history,  and  as  set  up  in  pursu- 
ance of  such  regular  plan  and  design.  Something 
of  this  sort  is  secretly  supposed,  or  referred  to.,  in  the 
expressions  of  thvTse  who  speak  of  the  "  principle  of 
the  constitution,"  of  bringing  back  the  constitution 
to  its  "  fir.st  principles,"  of  restoring  it  to  its  "  origi- 
nal purity,"  or  "  primitive  model,"  Now  this  ap- 
pears to  me  an  erroneous  conception  of  the  subject. 
No  such  plan  v/as  ever  formed,  consv-quently  no  such 
first  principles,  original  model,  or  rtaiidard  exist.  I 
mean  there  never  was  a  date,  or  point  of  time  in  our 
history,  when  the  government  of  England  was  to  be 
set  up  anew,  and  when  it  was  referred  to  any  single 
person,  or  assembly,  or  conunittee,  to  frame  a  char- 
ter for  the  future  government  of  the  counfi*y  ;  or 
when  a  constiiution,  so  prepared  and  digested,  was 
by  common  consent  received  and  established.  In  the 
time  of  the  civil  wars,  or  rather  between  the  death 
of  Charles  the  First  and  the  restoration  of  his  son, 
many  such  projects  were  published,  but  none  were 
carried  into  execution.  The  great  charter  and  the 
bill  of  rights,  were  wise  and  strenuous  efforts  to  ob=. 
tain  security  against  certain  abuses  of  regal  power, 
by  which  the  subject  had  been  formerly  aggrieved  ; 
but  these  were  either  of  them  much  too  partial  mod- 
ifications of  the  constitution  to  give  it  a  new  origin 
nal.  The  constitution  of  England,  like  that  of  most 
countries  in  Europe,  hath  grown  cut  of  occasion  and 
emergency  ;  from  the  fluctuating  policy  of  different 
ages  ;  from  the  contentions,  successes,  interests,  and 
opportunities  of  different  orders  and  parties  of  men 
in  the  community.  It  resembles  one  of  those  old 
mansions,  which,  instead  of  being  built  all  at  once,  af- 
ter a  regular  plan,  and  according  to  the  rules  of  arch- 
itecture al  present  established,  has  been  reared  in  dif- 
ferent ages  of  the  art,  has  been  altered  from  time  to 
time,  and  has  been  continually  receiving  additions 
w    w  t 


352  British  Constitutm, 

and  repairs  suited  to  the  taste,  fortune,  or  conveniens 
cy  of  its  successive  proprietors.  In  such  a  building, 
we  look  in  vain  for  the  elegance  and  proportion,  for 
the  just  order  and  correspondence  of  parts,  which  we 
expect  in  a  modern  edifice  ;  and  which  external  sym- 
metry, afier  all,  contributes  much  more  perhaps  to 
the  amusement  of  the  beholder,  than  the  accommo- 
dation of  the  inhabitant. 

In  the  British,  and  possibly  in  all  other  constitu- 
tions, there  exists  a  wide  difference  between  the  actu- 
al state  of  the  government  and  the  theory.  The  one 
results  from  the  other ;  but  still  they  are  different. 
When  we  contemplate  the  theory  of  the  British  gov- 
ernment, we  see  the  king  invested  v/ith  the  most  ab- 
solute personal  impunity  ;  with  a  power  of  rejecting 
laws,  which  have  been  resolved  upon  by  both  houses 
of  parliament ;  of  conferring  by  his  charter,  upon 
any  set  or  succession  of  men  he  pleases,  the  privilege 
of  sending  representatives  into  one  house  of  parlia- 
ment, as  by  his  immediate  appointment  he  can  place 
whom  he  will  in  the  other.  What  is  this,  a  foreigner 
might  ask,  but  a  .more  circuitous  despotism  ?  Yet, 
when  we  turn  our  attention  from  the  legal  extent  to 
the  actual  exercise  of  royal  authority  in  England, 
we  see  these  formidable  prerogatives  dwindled  into 
mere  ceremonies  ;  and  in  their  stead,  a  sure  and  com- 
manding influence,  of  which  the  constitution,  it 
seems  is  totally  ignorant,  growing  out  of  that  enor- 
mous patronage,  which  the  increased  territory  and 
opulence  of  the  empire  have  placed  in  the  disposal  of 
the  executive  magistrate. 

Upon  questions  of  reform,  the  habit  of  reflection 
to  be  encouraged,  is  a  sober  comparison  of  the  con- 
stitution under  which  we  live,  not  with  models  of 
speculative  perfection,  but  with  the  actual  chance  of 
obtaining  a  better.  This  turn  of  thought  will  gen- 
erate a  political  disposition,  equally  removed  from 
that  puerile  admiration  of  present  establishments, 
which  sees  no  fault,  and  can  endure  no  change,  and 
that  distempered  sensibility,  which  is  alive  only  to 
perceptions    of  inconvenicncy,   and   is  too  impatient 


British  Constitution,  353 

to  be  delivered  from  the  uneasiness  which  It  feels,  to 
compute  either  the  peril,  or  expense  of  the  remedy. 
Political  innovations  commonly  produce  many  effects 
besides  those  that  are  intended.  The  direct  conse- 
quence is  often  the  least  important.  Incidental,  re- 
mote, and  unthought  of  evils  or  advantages  fre- 
quently exceed  the  good  that  is  designed,  or  the  mis- 
chief that  is  foreseen.  It  is  from  the  silent  and  un- 
observed operation  ;  from  the  obscure  progress  of 
causes,  set  at  work  for  different  purposes,  that  the 
greatest  revolutions  take  their  rise.  When  Eliza- 
beth, and  her  immediate  successor,  applied  themselves 
to  the  encouragement  and  regulation  of  trade,  by 
many  wise  laws,  they  knew  not,  that,  together  with 
wealth  and  industry,  they  were  diffusing  a  conscious- 
ness of  strength  and  independency,  which  would  not 
long  endure,  under  the  forms  of  a  mixed  govern- 
ment, the  dominion  of  arbitrary  princes.  When  it 
was  debated  whether  the  mutiny  act,  the  law  by 
which  the  army  is  governed  and  maintained,  should 
be  temporary  or  perpetual,  little  else,  probably,  occur- 
red to  the  advocates  of  an  annual  bill,  than  the  ex- 
pediency of  retaining  a  control  over  the  most  dan- 
gerous prerogative  of  the  crown — the  direction  and 
command  of  a  standing  army  :  whereas,  in  its  effect, 
this  sinsfle  reservation  has  altered  the  v;hole  frame 
and  quality  of  the  British  constitution.  For  since, 
in  consequence  of  the  military  system,  v/hich  prevails 
In  neighbouring  and  rival  nations,  as  well  as  on  ac- 
count of  the  internal  exigences  of  government,  a 
standing  army  has  become  essential  to  the  safety  and 
administration  of  the  empire  ;  it  enables  parliament, 
by  discontinuing  this  necessary  provision,  so  to  en- 
force its  resolutions  upon  any  other  subject,  as  to  ren- 
der the  king's  dissent  to  a  law,  which  has  received 
the  approbation  of  both  houses,  too  dangerous  an  ex- 
periment any  longer  to  be  advised.  A  contest  be- 
tween the .  king  and  parliament,  cannot  now  be  per- 
severed in,  without  a  dissolution  of  the  government. 
Lastly,  when  the  constitution  conferred  upon  the 
crowu  the    nomination   to   all  employments  in  the 


354.'  British  Constitution, 

public  service,  the  authors  of  this  arrangement  were 
led  to  it,  by  the  obvious  propriety  of  leaving  to  a 
master  the  choice  of  his  servants  ;  and  by  the  mani- 
fest iaconveniency  of  engaging  the  national  council, 
upon  every  vacancy,  in  those  personal  contests  which 
attend  elections  to  places  of  honour  and  emoluments 
Our  ancestors  did  not  observe  that  this  disposition 
added  an  influence  to  the  regal  office,  which,  as  the 
number  and  value  of  pubHc  employments  increased, 
would  supersede  in  a  great  measure  the  forms,  and 
change  the  charact>er  of  the  ancient  constitution. 
They  knew  not,  what  the  experience  and  reflection 
of  modern  ages  has  discovered,  that  patronage  uni- 
versally is  power ;  that  he  who  possesses  in  a  suffi- 
cient degree  the  means  of  gratifying  the  de>ires  of 
mankind  after  wealth  and  distinction,  by  whatever 
checks  and  forms  his  authority  mz^y  be  limited  or 
disguised,  will  direct  the  management  of  public  af- 
fairs. Whatever  be  the  mechanism  of  the  political 
engine,  he  will  guide  the  motion.  These  instances 
are  adduced  in  order  to  illustrate  the  proposition 
which  we  laid  down,  that,  in  politics,  the  most  im- 
portant and  permanent  effects  have,  for  the  most 
part,  been  incidental,  and  unforeseen  :  and  this  prop- 
osition we  inculcate,  for  the  .-^ake  of  the  caution 
which  it  teaches,  that  changes  ought  not  to  be  ad- 
ventured upon  without  a  comprehensive  discernment 
of  the  consequences, — without  a  knowledge,  as  well 
of  the  remote  tendency,  as  of  the  immediate  design. 
The  courage  of  a  statesman  should  resemble  that  of  a 
commander,  who,  however  regardless  of  personal 
danger,  never  forgets,  that  with  his  own  he  com- 
mits the  lives  and  fortunes  of  a  multitude  ;  and  who. 
does  not  consider  it  as  any  proof  of  zeal  or  valour, 
to  stake  the  safety  of  other  men  upon  the  success  of  a 
perilous  or  desperate  enterprize. 

There  is  one  end  of  civil  government  peculiar  to 
a  good  constitution,  namely,  the  happiness  of  its  sub- 
jects  ;  there  is  another  end  essential  to  a  good  gov- 
ernment, but  common  to  it  with  many  bad  ones,— . 
its  own  preservation.     Observing  that  the  best  forni 


British  Constitution.  355 

of  government  would  be  defective,  which  did  not 
provide  for  its  own  permanency,  in  our  political  rea- 
sonings we  consider  all  such  provisions  as  expedient ; 
and  are  content  to  accept  as  a  sufficient  ground  for 
a  measure,  or  law,  that  it  is  necessary  or  conducive 
to  the  preservation  of  the  constitution.  Yet,  in  truths 
such  provisions  are  absolutely  expedient,  and  such 
an  excuse  final,  only  whilst  the  constitution  ij^  worth 
preserving  ;  that  is,  until  it  can  be  exchanged  for  a 
better.  I  premise  this  distinction,  because  many 
things  in  the  English,  as  in  every  constitution,  are  to 
be  vindicated  and  accounted  for,  solely  from  their 
tendency  to  maintain  the  government  in  its  present 
state,  and  the  several  parts  of  it  in  possession  of  the 
power^  which  the  constitution  has  assigned  to  them  ; 
and  because  I  would  wish  it  to  be  remarked,  that 
such  a  consideration  is  always  subordinate  to  another 
— the  value  and  usefulness  of  the  constitution  itself. 

T/je  government  of  England,  which  has  been  some- 
times called  a  mixed  government,  sometimes  a  limited 
monarchy,  is  formed  by  a  combination  of  the  three 
regular  species  of  government ;  the  monarchy,  resid- 
ing in  the  King ;  the  aristocracy,  in  the  House  of 
Lords  ;  and  the  republic  being  represented  by  the 
House  of  Commons.  The  perfectkm.  intended  by 
such  a  vscheme  of  government  is,  to  uriitc'the  advan- 
tages of  the  several  simple  forms,  and  to  exclude  the 
inconveniences.  To  what  degree  this  purpose  is 
attained  or  attainable  in  the  British  constitution ; 
wherein  it  is  lost  sight  of  or  neglected  ;  and  by  what 
means  it  may  in  any  part  be  promoted  with  better 
success,  the  7'eader  will  be  enabled  to  judge,  by  a  sep- 
arate recollection  of  these  advantages  and  inconven- 
iencies,  as  enumerated  in  the  preceding  chapter,  and 
a  distinct  application  of  each  to  the  political  condition 
of  this  country.  We  wiH  present  our  remarks  upon 
the  subject  in  a  brief  account  of  the  expedients  by 
which  the  British  constitution  provides, 

1st,  For  the  interests  of  its  subjects. 

2dly,  For  its  own  preservation. 


S36  British  Constitution. 

The  contrivances  for  the  first  of  these  purposes  arc 
the  following  : 

In  order  to  promote  the  establishment  of  salutary 
public  laws,  every  citizen  of  the  state  is  capable  of 
becoming  a  member  of  the  senate  ;  and  every  sena- 
tor possesses  the  right  of  propounding  to  the  deliber- 
ation of  the  legislature  whatever  law  he  pleases. 

Every  district  of  the  empire  enjoys  the  privilege  of 
chooFing  representatives,  informed  of  the  interests, 
and  circumstances  and  desires  of  their  constituents, 
and  entitled  by  their  situation  to  communicate  that 
information  to  the  national  council.  Ihe  meanest 
subject  has  some  one  whom  he  can  call  upon  to  bring 
forward  his  complaints  and  requests  to  public  atten- 
tion. 

By  annexing  the  right  of  voting  for  members  of 
the  House  of  Commons  to  different  qualifications  in 
different  places,  each  order  and  profession  of  men  in 
the  community  become  virtually  represented  ;  that 
is,  men  of  all  orders  and  professions,  statesmen,  cout- 
iers,  country  gentlemen,  lawyers,  merchants,  manu- 
facturers, soldiers,  sailors,  interested  in  the  prosperity, 
and  experienced  in  the  occupation  of  their  respective 
professions,  obtain  seats  in  parliament. 

The  elections,  at  the  same  time,  are  so  connected 
with  the  influence  of  landed  property,  as  to  afford  a 
certainty  that  a  considerable  number  of  men  of  great 
estates  will  be  returned  to  parliament ;  and  are  also 
so  modified,  that  men  the  most  eminent  and  success- 
ful in  their  respective  professions,  are  the  most  likely, 
by  their  riches,  or  the  weight  of  rheir  stations,  to 
prevail  in  these  competitions. 

The  number,  fortune,  and  quality  of  the  members  ; 
the  variety  of  interests  and  characters  amongst  them  ; 
above  all,  the  temporary  duration  of  their  power, 
and  the  change  of  men  wliich  every  new  election 
produces,  are  so  many  securities  to  the  public,  as  well 
against  the  subjection  of  their  judgments  to  any  ex- 
ternal dictation,  as  against  the  formation  of  a  junto 
in  their  own  body,  sufficiently  powerful  to  govern 
their  decisionSc 


British  Constitution*  237 

The  representatives  are  so  intermixed  with  the  con- 
stituents, and  the  constituents  with  the  rest  of  the  peo- 
ple, that  they  cannot,  without  a  partiality  too  flag- 
rant to  be  endured,  impose  any  burthen  upon  the 
subject,  in  which  they  do  not  share  themselves ;  nor 
scarcely  can  they  adopt  an  advantageous  regulation  in 
v/hich  their  own  interests  will  not  participate  of  the 
advantage. 

The  proceedings  and  debates  of  parliament,  and 
the  parliamentary  conduct  of  each  representative  are 
known  by  the  people  at  large. 

The  representative  is  so  far  dependent  upon  the 
constituent,  and  political  importance  upon  public  fa- 
vour, that  a  member  of  parliament  cannot  more  effec- 
tually recommend  himself  to  eminence  and  advance- 
ment in  the  state,  than  by  contriving  and  patronizing 
laws  of  public  utility. 

When  intelligence  of  the  condition,  wants,  and  oc- 
casions of  the  people,  is  thus  collected  from  every 
quarter,  when  such  a  variety  of  invention,  and  so 
many  understandings  are  stt  at  work  upon  the  sub- 
ject, it  may  be  presumed,  that  the  most  eligible  expe- 
dient, remedy  or  improvement,  will  occur  to  some 
one  or  other  ;  and  when  a  wise  counsel,  or  beneficial 
regulation  is  once  suggested,  it  may  be  expected,  from 
the  disposition  of  an  assembly  so  constituted  as  the 
British  house  of  commons  is,  that  it  cannot  fail  of 
receiving  the  approbation  of  a  majority. 

To  prevent  those  destructive  contentions  for  the 
supreme  power  which  are  sure  to  take  place,  where 
the  members  of  the  state  do  not  live  under  an  ac- 
knowledged headj  and  a  known  rule  of  succession  ; 
to  preserve  the  people  in  tranquility  at  home,  by  a 
speedy  and  vigorous  execution  of  the  laws  ;  to  pro- 
tect their  interest  abroad,  by  strength  and  energy  in 
military  operations,  by  those  advantages  of  decision, 
secrecy  and  dispatch,  which  belong  to  the  resolutions 
of  monarchical  councils: — for  these  purposes,  the  con- 
stitution has  committed  the  executive  governnient  to 
the  administration  and  limited  authority  of  an  hered- 
itary king. 


358  British  Co?istitution. 

In  the  defence  of  the  empire ;  in  the  maintenance 
of  its  power,  dignity,  and  privileges,  with  foreign  na- 
tions ;  in  the  advancement  of  its  trade  by  treaties  and 
conventions  ;  and  in  the  providing  for  the  general 
administration  of  municipal  justice,  by  a  proper 
choice  and  appointment  of  magistrates,  the  inclina- 
tion of  the  king  and  of  the  people  usually  coincides  : 
in  this  part,  therefore,  of  the  regal  office,  the  consti- 
tution intrusts  the  prerogative  with  ample  powers. 

The  dangers  principally  to  be  apprehended  from 
regal  government,  relate  to  the  two  articles,  taxation 
and  punishment.  In  every  form  of  government,  from 
which  the  people  are  excluded,  it  is  the  interest  of  the 
governors  to  get  as  much,  and  of  the  governed  to 
give  as  little  as  they  can  :  the  power  also  of  punish- 
ment, in  the  hands  of  an  arbitrary  prince,  oftentimes 
becomes  an  engine  of  extortion,  jealousy,  and  revenge. 
Wisely,  therefore,  hath  the  British  constitution  guard- 
ed the  safety  of  the  people,  in  these  two  points,  by 
the  most  studious  precautions. 

Upon  that  of  taxation^  every  law^,  which,  by  the 
remotest  construction,  may  be  deemed  to  levy  money 
upon  the  property  of  the  subject,  must  originate,  that 
is,  must  first  be  proposed  and  assented  to,  in  the 
house  of  commons  :  by  which  regulation,  accomp'^- 
nying  the  weight  which  that  assembly  possesses  in  all 
its  functions,  the  levying  of  taxes  is  ?.lmo>t  exclu- 
sively reserved  to  the  popular  part  of  the  constitution, 
who,  it  is  presumed,  will  not  tax  themselves,  nor  their 
fellow  subjects,  without  being  first  convinced  of  the 
necessity  of  the  aids  which  they  grant. 

The  application  also  of  the  public  supplies,  is  watch- 
ed with  the  same  circumspection,  as  the  assessment. 
Many  taxes  are  annual  ;  the  produce  of  others  is 
mortgaged,  or  appropriated  to  specific  services ;  the 
expenditure  of  all  of  them,  is  accounted  for  in  the 
house  of  commons  ;  as  cumputations  of  the  charge 
of  the  purpose,  for  which  they  are  wanted,  are  pre- 
viously submitted  to  the  same  tribunal. 

In  the  infliction  of  punishmerit^  the  i  ower  of  the 
crown,  and  of  the  magistrate  appointed  by  the  crown. 


British  Constitution*^  359 

is  confined  by  the  most  precise  limitations :  the  guilt 
OjF  the  offender  must  be  pronounced  by  twelve  men 
oF  his  own  order,  indifferently  chosen  out  of  the 
county  where  the  offence  was  committed :  the  pun- 
ishment, or  the  limits  to  which  the  punishment  may 
be  extended,  are  ascertained  and  affixed  to  the  crime, 
by  laws  which  knew  not  the  person  of  the  criminal. 

And  whereas  arbitrary  or  clandestine  confinement 
is  the  injury  most  to  be  dreaded  from  the  strong 
hand  of  the  executive  government,  because  it  deprives 
the  prisoner  at  once  of  protection  and  defence,  and 
delivers  him  into  the  power,  and  to  the  malicious  or 
interested  designs  of  his  enemies ;  the  constitution, 
has  provided  again>t  this  danger  with  double  solici- 
tude. The  ancient  writ  of  habeas  corpus,  the  habeas 
corpus  act  of  Charles  the  Second,  and  the  practice 
and  determinations  of  our  sovereign  courts  of  justice, 
founded  upon  these  laws,  afford  a  complete  remedy 
for  every  conceivable  case  of  illegal  imprisonment.*  . 

Treason  being  that  charge,  under  colour  of  which 
the  destruction  of  an  obnoxious  individual  is  often 
sought ;  and  government  being  at  all  times  more  im- 
mediately a  party  in  the  prosecution  ;  the  law,  beside 
the  general  care  with  which  it  watches  over  the  safety 
of  the  accused,  in  this  case,  sensible  of  the  unequal 

*  Upon  complaint  in  writing  by,  or  on  behalf  of  any  person  in  confine* 
ment,  to  any  of  the  four  courts  of  Westminster  Hall,interm  time,  or  to  the 
Lord  Chancellor,  or  one  of  the  Judges,  in  the  vacation;  and  upon  a  proba- 
ble reason  being  suggested  to  question  th^  legality  of  the  detention,  a  writ  is 
issued,  to  the  person  in  whose  custody  thecompjaiu^nt  is  alleged  to  be, com- 
manding him  within  a  certain  limited  and  short  time  to  produce  the  body 
of  the  prisoner,  and  the  authority  under  which  he  is  detained.  Upon  the 
return  of  the  writ,  strict  and  instantaneous  obedience  to  which  is  enforced 
by  very  severe  penalties,  if  no  lawful  cause  of  imprisonment  appear,  th^? 
court  or  judge,  before  whom  the  prisoner  is  brought,  is  authorized  and  bound 
to  discharge  him;  even  though  he  may  have  been  committed  by  a  secretary, 
or  otiier  high  olfirer  of  state,  by  the  privy  council,  or  by  the  king  in  per- 
son: so  that  nosubject  of  this  realm  can  beheld  inconfinement,byany  power. 
Or  under  any  pretence  whatever,  provided  he  can  lind  means  to  convey  his 
complaint  to  one  of  the  four  courts  of  Westminster  Hall,  orduring  their  re- 
cess, to  any  of  the  Judges  of  the  same,  unless  all  these  several  tribunals  agree 
in  determining  his  imprisinmcnt  to  be  legal.  He  may  make  application  to 
them,  in  succession  ;  and  if  one  out  of  the  number  be  found,  who  thinks  the 
r-.'-isoner  entirledto  his  Hberry,thatone  possesses  authority  tprestoreit  to  bim. 

X    X 


360  British  Comiiiution, 

contest  in  which  the  subject  is  engaged,  has  assisted 
his  defence  with  extraordinary  indulgences.  By 
two  statutes,  enacted  since  the  revolution,  every  per- 
son  indicted  for  high  treason  shall  have  a  copy  of  his 
indictmem,  a  list  of  the  v/itnesses  to  be  produced, 
and  of  the  jury  impannelled,  delivered  to  him  ten 
days  before  the  trial ;  he  is  also  permitted  to  make 
his  defence  by  counsel — privileges  which  are  not  al- 
lowed to  the  prisoner,  in  a  trial  for  any  other  crime : 
and  what  is  of  more  importance  to  the  party  than 
all  the  rest,  the  testimony  of  two  witnesses,  at  the 
least,  is  required  to  convict  a  person  of  treason  ^ 
whereas,  one  pvositive  witness  is  sufficient  in  almost 
every  other  species  of  accusation. 

We  proceed,  in  the  second  place,  to  inquire  in  what 
manner  the  constitution  has  provided  for  its  own  pres- 
ervation ;  that  is,  in  what  manner  each  part  of  the 
legislature  is  secured  in  the  exercise  of  the  powers 
assigned  to  it,  from  the  encroachment  of  the  other 
parts.  The  security  is  sometimes  called  the  balance  of 
the  constihiiion  ;  and  the  political  equilibrium,  which 
this  phrase  denotes,  consists  in  two  contrivances, 
— a  balance  of  power,  and  a  balance  of  interest. 
By  a  balance  of  power  is  meant,  that  there  is  no 
power  possessed  by  one  part  of  the  legislature,  the 
abuse,  or  excess  of  which  is  not  checked  by  some  an- 
tagonist power,  residing  in  another  part.  Thus  the 
power  of  the  two  houses  of  parliament  to  frame  laws 
is  checked  by  the  king's  negative  ;  that  if  laws  sub- 
versive of  regal  government  should  obtain  the  con- 
sent of  parliament,  the  reigning  prince,  by  interposing 
his  prerogative,  may  save  the  necessary  rights  and 
•authority  of  his  station.  On  the  other  hand,  the  ar- 
bitrary application  of  this  negative  is  checked  by  the 
privilege  which  parliament  possesses,  of  refusing  sup- 
plies of  money  to  the  exigences  of  the  king's  admin- 
istration. The  constitutional  maxim,  "  that  the  king 
can  do  no  wrong,'*  is  balanced  by  another  maxim, 
not  less  constitutional,  "  that  the  illegal  commands  of 
the  king  do  not  justify  those  who  assist,  or  concur. 


British  Constitution,  361 

in  carrying  them  into  execution  ;**  and  by  a  second 
rule  subsidiary  to  this,  "  that  the  acts  of  the  crowa 
acquire  not  a  legal  force,  until  authenticated  by  the  sub- 
scription of  some  of  its  great  officers.'*  The  wisdom 
of  this  contrivance  is  worthy  of  observation.  As  the 
king  could  not  be  punished,  without  a  civil  war,  the 
constitution  exempts  his  person  from  trial  or  account ; 
but  lest  this  impunity  should  encourage  a  licentious 
exercise  of  dominion,  various  obstacles  are  opposed 
to  the  private  will  of  the  sovereign,  when  directed  to 
illegal  objects.  The  pleasure  of  the  crown  must  be 
announced  with  certain  solemnities,  and  attested  by 
certain  officers  of  staxe„  In  some  cases,  the  royal  or- 
der must  be  signified  by  a  secretary  of  state;  in  others 
it  must  pass  under  the  privy  seal,  and  in  many,  un- 
der the  great  seal.  And  when  the  king's  command 
is  regularly  published,  no  mischief  can  be  achieved 
by  it,  vyithout  the  ministry  and  compliance  of  those 
to  whom  it  is  directed.  Now,  all  who  either  concur 
in  an  illegal  order,  by  authenticating  its  publication 
with  their  seal  or  subscription,  or  who  in  any  man* 
ner  assist  in  carrying  it  into  execution,  subject  them- 
selves ta  prosecution  and  punishment,  for  the  part 
they  have  taken  ;  and  are  not  permitted  to  plead  or 
produce  the  command  of  the  king,  in  justification  of 
their  obedience.*  But  farther  ;  the  power  of  the 
crown  to  direct  the  military  force  of  the  kingdom^ 
is  balanced  by  the  annual  necessity  of  resorting  to  par- 
liament for  the  maintenance  and  government  of  that 
force.  The  power  of  the  king  to  declare  war,  is 
checked  by  the  privilege  of  the  house  of  commons 
to  grant  or  withhold  the  supplies  by  which  the  war 

*  Amongst  the  checks,  which  parliament  holds  overthe  administration  o^ 
pubhc  affairs,  I  forbear  to  mention  the  practice  of  addressing  the  king,  to 
know  by  whose  advice  heresolvedupon  a  particular  measure,  and  of  punish- 
ing the  authors  of  thatadvice,  for  the  counsel  they  had  given.  Not  because 
I  think  this  method  cither  unconstitutional  or  improper,  but  for  this  rea- 
son, that  it  does  not  so  much  subject  the  king  to  the  control  of  parliament, 
as  it  supposes  him  to  be  already  in  subjection.  For  if  the  king  were  so  far 
out  of  the  reach  of  the  resentment  of  the  house  af  commons,  as  to  be  able, 
with  safety,  to  refuse  the  information  requested,  or  to  take  upon  himself 
the  responsibility.inquired  after,  there  miist  be  an  end  of  a?l  proceedings 
founded  i;i  this  node  of  application. 


362  British  ConsiiUition. 

must  be  carried  on.  The  king's  choice  of  his  minis- 
ters is  controlled  by  the  obligation  he  is  under  of  ap- 
pointing those  men  to  offices  in  the  state,  who  are 
found  capable  of  managing  the  affairs  of  his  govern- 
ment with  the  two  houses  of  parliament.  Which 
consideration  imposes  such  a  necessity  upon  the  crown, 
as  hath  in  a  great  measure  subdued  the  influence  of 
favouritism  ;  insomuch,  that  it  is  become  no  uncom- 
mon spectacle  in  this  country,  to  see  men  promoted 
by  the  king  to  the  highest  offices,  and  richest  prefer- 
ments, which  he  has  in  his  power  to  bestow,  who 
have  been  distinguished  by  their  opposition  to  his  per- 
sonal inclinations. 

By  the  balance  of  interest,  which  accompanies  and 
gives  efficacy  to  the  balance  of  power,  is  meant  this, 
that  the  respective  interests  of  the  three  estates  of  the 
empire  are  so  disposed  and  adjusted,  that  whichever 
of  the  three  shall  attempt  any  encroachment,  the 
other  two  will  unite  in  resisting  it.  If  the  king 
should  endeavour  to  extend  his  authority,  by  con- 
tracting the  power  and  privileges  of  the  commons, 
the  house  of  lords  would  see  their  own  dignity  en- 
dangered by  every  advance  which  the  crown  made 
to  independency  upon  >  the  resolutions  of  parliament. 
The  admission  of  arbitrary  power  is  no  less  formida- 
ble to  the  grandeur  of  the  aristocracy,  than  it  is  fatal 
to  the  liberty  of  the  republic  ;  that  is,  it  would  re- 
duce the  nobility  from  the  hereditary  share  they  pos- 
sess, in  the  national  councils,  in  which  their  real 
greatness  consists,  to  the  being  made  a  part  of  the 
empty  pageantry  of  a  despotic  court.  On  the  other 
hand,  if  the  house  of  commons  should  intrench  upon 
the  distinct  province,  or  usurp  the  established  preroga- 
tive of  the  crown,  the  house  of  lords  v/ould  receive  an 
instant  alarm  from  every  new  stretch  of  popular  power. 

In  every  contest  in  which  the  king  may  be  engaged 
with  the  representative  body,  in  defence  of  his  estab- 
lished share  of  authority,  he  will  find  a  sure  ally  in 
the  collective  power  of  the  nobility.  An  attachment 
to  the  nftonarchy,  from  vi^hich  they  derive  their  own 
distinction  5  the  allurements  of  a  court,  in  the  habits 


Brills h  Constitution.  :363 

and  with  the  sentiments  of  which  they  have  been 
brought  up  ;  their  hatred  of  equality,  and  of  all  lev- 
elling pretensions,  which  may  ultimately  affect  the 
privileges,  or  even  the  existence  of  their  order  ;  in 
short,  every  principle  and  every  prejudice  which  are 
wont  to  actuate  human  conduct,  will  determine  their 
choice,  to  the  side  and  support  of  the  crown.  Lastly, 
if  the  nobles  themselves  should  attempt  to  revive 
the  superiorities,  which  their  ancestor  exercised  under 
the  feudal  constitution,  the  king  and  the  people 
would  alike  remember,  how  the  one  had  been  nisult- 
ed,  and  the  other  enslaved,  by  that  barbarous  tyranny. 
They  would  forget  the  natural  opposition  of  their 
views  and  inclinations,  when  they  saw  themselves 
threatened  with  the  return  of  a  domination,  which 
was  odious  and  intolerable  to  both. 


The  reader  will  have  obser^d,  that  in  describing 
the  British  constitution,  little  notice  has  been 
taken  of  the  house  of  lords.  The  proper  use  and  de- 
sign of  this  part  of  the  constitution,  are  the  following  : 

First,  to  enable  the  king,  by.  his  right  of  bestowing 
the  peerage,  to  reward  the  .servants  of  the  public,  in 
a  manner  most  graceful  to  them,  and  at  a  small  ex- 
pense to  the  nation  ;  secondly,  to  fortify  the  power 
and  to  secure  the  stability  of  regal  government,  by 
an  order  of  men  naturally  allied  to  its  interests  ;  and, 
thirdly,  to  answer  a  purpose,  which,  though  of  supe- 
rior importance  to  the  other  two,  does  not  occur  so 
readily  to  our  observation ;  namely,  to  stem  the  prog- 
ress of  popular  fury.  Large  bodies  of  men  are  sub- 
ject to  sudden  frenzies.  Opinions  are  sometimes  cir- 
culated amongst  a  multitude  without  proof  or  exami- 
nation, acquiring  confidence  and  reputation  merely 
by  being  repeated  from  one  to  another  ;  and  passions 
founded  upon  these  opinions,  diffusing  themselves 
^vith  a  rapidity  which  can  neither  be  accounted  for 
nor  resisted,  may  agitate  a  country  with  the  most  vio- 
lent coir^motions.     Now  the  only  way  to  stop  the  fer- 


364  British  Constitution, 

mentation,  is  to  divide  the  mass  ;  that  is,  to  erect- 
different  orders  in  the  community,  with  separate  pre- 
judices and  interests.  And  this  may  occasionally  be- 
come the  use  of  an  hereditary  nobility,  invested  with 
a  share  of  legislation.  Averse  to  those  prejudices 
which  actuate  the  minds  of  the  vulgar  ;  accu-tomed 
to  condemn  the  clamour  of  the  populace  ;  disdaining 
to  receive  laws  and  opinions  from  their  inferiors  in 
rank,  they  will  oppose  resolutions,  which  are  founded 
in  the  folly  and  violence  of  the  lower  part  of  the  com- 
munity. Was  the  voice  of  the  people  always  dicta- 
ted by  reflection  ;  did  every  man,  or  even  one  man  in 
an  hundred  think  for  himself,  or  actually  cont-ider  the 
measure  he  was  about  to  approve  or  censure  ;  or  even 
were  the  common  people  tolerably  stedfast  in  the 
judgment  which  thev  formed,  I  should  hold  the  in- 
terference of  a  superior  orded,  not  only  superfluous, 
but  wrong  :  for,  v;hen  every  thing  is  allowed  to  (jlif- 
ference  of  rank  and  education,  which  the  actual  state 
of  the^e  advantages  deserves,  that,  after  all,  is  most 
likely  to  be  right  and  expedient,  which  appears  to 
be  so  to  the  separate  judgment  and  decision  of  a  great 
majority  of  the  nation ;  at  least,  that,  in  general,  is 
right  for  them,  which  is  agreeable  to  their  fixed  opin- 
ions and  desires.  But  when  we  observe  what  is  urg- 
ed as  the  public  opinion,  to  be,  in  truth,  the  opinion 
only  or  perhaps  the  feigned  professions  of  a  few  crafty 
leaders ;  that  the  numbers  who  join  in  the  cry,  serve 
only  to  swell  and  multiply  the  sound,  without  any 
accession  of  judgment,  or  exercise  of  under.standing  ; 
and  that  oftentimes  the  wisest  counsels  have  been 
thus  overborne  by  tumult  and  uproar,"~we  may 
conceive  occasions  to  ari-e,  in  which  the  Common- 
wealth may  be  saved  by  the  reluctance  of  the  nobility 
to  adopt  the  caprices,  or  to  yield  to  the  vehemence 
of  the  common  people.  In  expecting  this  advantage 
from  an  order  of  nobles,  we  do  not  suppose  the  no- 
bihty  to  be  more  unprejudiced  than  others ;  we  only 
suppose  that  their  prejudices  will  be  different  from, 
and  may  occasionally  counteract  those  of  others. 
If  the  personal  privileges  of  the  peerage,  which  are 


British  Constitution*  S6J 

usually  so  many  injuries  to  the  rest  of  the  communi- 
ty, be  restrained,  1  see  little  inconveniency  in  the  in- 
crease of  its  number ;  for  it  is  only  dividing  the  same 
quantity  of  power  amongst  more  hands,  which  is 
rathor  favourable  to  public  freedom  than  otherwise 

Theadmissionof  asmall  number  of  ecclesiastics  into 
the  house  of  lords,  is  but  an  equitable  compensation 
to  the  clergy  for  the  exclusion  of  their  order  from 
the  house  of  commons.  They  are  a  set  of  men  con- 
siderable by  their  number  and  propei'ty,  as  well  as  by 
their  influence,  and  the  duties  of  their  station  ;  yet, 
whilst  every  other  profession  has  those  amongst  the  na- 
tional representatives,  who,  being  conversant  in  the 
same  occupation,  are  able  to  state,  and  naturally  dis- 
posed to  support,  the  rights  and  interests  of  the  class 
and  calling  to  which  they  belong,  the  clergy  alone 
are  deprived  of  this  advantage.  Which  hardship  is 
made  up  to  them  by  introducing  the  prelacy  into 
parliament ;  and  if  bishops,  from  gratitude  or  expec- 
tation, be  more  obsequious  to  the  will  of  the  crown, 
than  those  who  possess  great  temporal  inheritances, 
they  are  properly  inserted  into  that  part  of  the  con- 
stitution, from  which  much  or  frequent  resistance  to 
the  measures  of  government  is  not  expected^ 

I  acknowledge,  that  I  perceive  no  sufficient  reason 
for  exempting  the  persons  of  members  of  either 
house  of  parliament  from  arrest  for  debt.  The  coun- 
sels or  suffrage  of  a  single  senator,  especially  of  one 
who,  in  the  management  of  his  own  affairs,  may 
justly  be  suspected  of  a  want  of  prudence  or  honesty, 
can  seldom  be  so  necessary  to  those  of  the  public,  as 
to  justify  a  departure  from  that  wholesome  policy, 
by  which  the  laws  of  a  commercial  state  punish  and 
stigmatize  insolvency.  But  whatever  reason  may  be 
pleaded  for  their  personal  immunity,  when  this  privi- 
lege of  parliament  is  extended  to  domestics  and  retain- 
ers, or  when  it  is  permitted  to  impede  or  delay  the 
course  of  judicial  proceedings,  it  becomes  an  absurd 
sacrifice  of  equal  justice  to  imaginary  dignity. 

There  is  nothing,  in  the  British  constitution,  so  re- 
raarkable,  as  the  irregularity  of  the  popular  repr^- 


360  British  Co7i5iiiutiQn. 

mentation.  The  house  of  commons  consists  of  fiv^ 
hundred  and  forty-eight  members,  of  whom,  two 
hundred  are  elected  by  seven  thousand  constituents: 
so  that  a  majority  of  these  seveh  thousand,  without 
any  reasonable  title  to  superior  weight  or  influence 
in  the  state,  may,  under  certain  circumstances,  decide 
a  question  against  the  opinion  of  as  many  millions* 
Or,  to  place  the  same  object  in  another  point  of  view  ; 
if  my  estate  be  situated  in  one  county  of  the  king- 
dom, I  possess  the  ten  thousandth  part  of  a  single 
representative;  if  in  another,  the  thousandth  ;  if  in 
a  particular  district,  I  may  be  one  in  twenty  who 
choose  two  representatives  j  if  in  a  still  more  favour- 
ed spot,  I  may  enjoy  the  right  of  appointing  two 
myself.  If  I  have  been  born,  or  dwell,  or  have  serv- 
ed an  apprenticeship  in  one  town,  I  am  represented 
in  the  national  assembly  by  two  deputies,  in  the  choice 
of  whom  I  exercise  an  actual  and  sensible  share  of 
power  ;  if  accident  has  thrown  my  birth,  or  habita- 
tion, or  service  into  another  town,  I  have  no  repre- 
sentative at  all,  nor  more  power  or  concern  in  the 
election  of  those  who  make  the  laws  by  which  I  am 
governed,  than  if  I  was  a  subject  of  the  Grand  Seign- 
ior— and  this  partiality  subvsists  without  any  pretence 
whatever  of  merit  or  of  propriety,  to  justify  the  pref- 
erence of  one  place  to  another.  Or,  thirdly,  to  de- 
scribe the  state  of  national  representation  as  it  exists 
in  reality,  it  may  be  affirmed,  I  believe  with  truth, 
that  about  one  half  of  the  house  of  commons  obtain 
their  seats  in  that  assembly  by  the  election  of  the 
people,  the  other  Half  by  purchase,  or  by  the  nomi- 
nation of  single  proprietors  of  great  estates. 

This  is  a  flagrant  incongruity  in  the  constitution  ; 
but  it  is  one  of  those  objections  which  strike  most 
forcible  at  first  sight.  The  effect  of  all  reasoning  upon 
the  subject  is  to  diminish  the  first  impression ;  on 
which  account  it  deserves  the  more  attentive  examin- 
ation, that  we  may  be  assured,  before  we  adventure 
upon  a  reformation,  that  the  magnitude  of  the  evil 
justifies  the  danger  of  the  experiment.  In  the  few  re- 
marks that  follow,  we  would  be  understood,  in  the 


British  Comtitufion.  367 

tirst  place,  to  decline  all  conference  with  those  who 
wish  to  alter  the  form  of  government  of  these  king- 
doms. The  reformers  with  whom  we  have  to  do, 
are  they,  who,  whilst  they  change  this  part  of  the 
system,  would  retain  the  rest.  If  any  Englishman 
expects  more  happiness  to  his  country  under  a  repub- 
lic, he  may  very  consistently  recommend  a  new  model- 
ling of  elections  to  parliament ;  because,  if  the  king 
and  house  of  lords  were  laid  aside,  the  present  dispro- 
portionate representation  would  produce  nothing  but 
a  confused  and  ill-digested  oligarchy.  In  like  man- 
ner we  wave  a  controversy  with  those  writers  who 
insist  upon  representation  as  d.  natu?'ai  right  :*  we  con- 
sider it  so  far  only  as  a  right  at  all,  as  it  conduces  to 
public  utility  ;  that  is,  as  it  contributes  to  the  estab- 
li&haient  of  good  laws,  or,  as  it  secures  to  the  people 
the  jqst  administration  of  these  laws.  These  effects 
depend  upon  the  disposition  and  abilities  of  the  na- 
tional counsellors.  Wherefore,  if  men,  the  most 
likely  by  their  qualifications  to  know  and  to  pro- 
mote the  public  interest,  be  actually  returned  to  par- 
liament, it  signifies  little  who  return  them.  If  the 
properest  persons  be  elected,  what  matters  it  by  whom 
they  are  elected?  At  lea ^t,  no  prudent  statesman 
would  subvert  long  established  or  even  settled  rules 
of  representation,  without  a  prospect  of  procuring 
wiser  or  better  representatives. 

Thisthen being  well  observed^  let  us,  before  we  seek 
to  obtain  any  thing  more,  consider  duly  what  we  al- 
ready have.  We  have  a  house  of  commons, composed 
of  five  hundred  and  forty-eight  members,  in  which 
number  are  found  the  most  considerable  landholders 
and  merchants  of  the  kingdom  ;  the  heads  of  the  ar- 
my, the  navy, and  the  law;  theoccupiers  of  great  offices 
in  the  state ;  together  with  many  private  individuals, 
-eminent  by  their  knowledge,  eloquence,  or  activity. 

*  If  this  right  be  natural,  no  doubt  it  must  be  equal,  and  the  right,  we 
may  add,  ofoiiestx,  as  well  as  of  the  other.  Whereas  every  p'an  of 
representation,  that  we  have  heard  of,  begins,  by  excluding  the  votes  of 
women  .  thus  cutting  off,  at  a  single  stroke,  one  half  of  the  public  from  a 
right  which  is  asserted  to  be  inherent  in  all ;  a  right  too,  as  some  represent 
rt,  jiotoniy  universal,  but  unalienabie,andindefeaBible,  and  imprescriptible- 

Y     Y 


368  British  Consiiiuticn. 

Now,  if  the  country  be   not  safe  in  such  hands,  ia 
whose  may  it  confide  its  interests  ?  If  such  a  number 
of  such  men  be  Hable  to  the  influence  of  corrupt  mo- 
tives, what  assembly  of  men  will  be  secure  from  the 
same  danger  ?   Does  any  new  scheme  of  representa- 
tion promise  to  collect  together  more  wisdom,  or  to 
produce  firmer  integrity  ?  In  this  view  of  the  subject, 
and  attending  not  to  ideas  of  order  and  proportion, 
(of  which  many  minds  are  much  enamoured)  but  to 
effects  alone,  we  may  discover  just  excuses  for  those 
parts  of  the  present  representation,  which  appear  to 
a  hasty  observer  most  exceptionable  and  absurd.     It 
should  be  remembered  as  a  maxim  extremely  appli- 
cable to  this  'iubject,  that  no  order  or  assembly  of  men. 
whatever  can  long  maintain  their  place  and  authority 
in  a  mixed    government,  of  which   the  members  do 
nor  individually  posess  a  respectable  share  of  personal 
importance.     Now,  whatever  may   be  the  defects  of 
the  present  arrangement,  it  infallibly  secures  a  great 
weight  of  property  to  the  house  of  commons,  by  ren- 
dering many  seats  in  that  house  accessible  to  men  of 
large  fortunes,  and  to  such  men  alone.     By   which 
means  those  characters  are  engaged  in  the  defence  ot 
the  separate  rights  and  interests  of  this  branch  of  the 
legislature,  that  are  be^  t   able  to  support  its  claims. 
The  constitution  of  most  of  the  small  boroughs,  es- 
pecially the  burgage  tenure,  contributes,  though  un- 
de:  ignedly,  to  the  same  efF^ct  ;     for  the  appointment 
of  the  representatives  we  find  connnonly  annexed  to 
certain  great  inheritances.     Elections  purely  popular 
are  in  this  respect  uncertain  :  in  limes  of  tranquillity, 
the  natural    ascendency  of  wealth   will   prtvail  y  but 
when  the  minds  of  n^en  are  inflamed  by  political  dis- 
sensions, this  influence  often  yields  to  more  impetu- 
ous motives. — The  varieiy    of  tenures  and  quahfica- 
tions,  upon  which  the  riglit  of  voting  is  founded,  ap- 
pears to  me  a  recommendation  of  the   mode  which 
now  subsists,  as  it  tends  to  introduce  into  parliament 
a  corresponding  mixture  of  characters  and   profes- 
sions.    It  has  been    long  ob^■erved,  that  conspicuous 
abilities  are  rnost  frequently  found  with  the  represen- 
tatives of  small  boroughs:.  -   And  this  is  nothing  morr 


British  Constitutiotu  369 

tlian  what  the  laws  of  human  conduct  might  teach 
us  to  expect :  when  such  boroughs  are  set  to  sale, 
those  men  are  Hkely  to  become  purchasers,  who  are 
enabled  by  their  talents  to  make  the  best  of  their  bar- 
gain ;  when  a  seat  is  not  sold,  but  given  by  the  opu- 
lent proprietor  of  a  burgage  tenure,  the  patron  finds 
his  own  interest  consulted,  by  the  reputation  and 
abilities  of  the  member  whom  he  nominates.  If  cer- 
tain of  the  nobility  hold  the  appointment  of  some 
part  of  the  house  of  commons,  it  serves  to  maintain 
that  alliance  between  the  two  branches  of  the  legisla- 
ture, which  no  good  citizen  would  wish  to  see  dissev- 
ered :  it  helps  to  keep  the  government  of  the  coun- 
try in  the  house  of  commons,  in  which  it  would  not 
perhaps  long  continue  to  reside,  if  so  powerful  and 
wealthy  a  part  of  the'nation  as  the  peerage  compose, 
were  excluded  from  all  share  and  interest  in  its  con- 
stitution. If  there  be  a  few  boroughs  so  circum- 
stanced as  to  lie  at  the  disposal  of  the  crown  ;  whilst 
the  number  of  such  is  known  and  small,  they  may  be 
tolerated  with  little  danger.  For  where  would  be 
the  impropriety,  or  the  inconveniency,  if  the  king  at 
once  should  nominate  a  limited  number  of  his  ser- 
vants to  seats  in  parliament ;  /  or,  what  is  the  same 
thing,  if  seats  in  parliament  were  annexed  to  the  pos- 
ses ion  of  certain  of  the  most  efficient  and  responsible 
offices  in  the  state.  The  present  representation,  after 
all  these  deductions,  and  under  the  confusion  in 
which  it  confessedly  lies,  is  still  in  such  a  degree  pop- 
ular ;  or  rather  the  representatives  are  so  connected 
with  the  mass  of  the  community,  by  a  society  of  in- 
terests and  passions,  that  the  will  of  the  people,  when 
it  is  determined,  permanent,  and  general,  almost  al- 
ways at  length  prevails. 

Upon  the  whole,  in  the  several  plans  which  have 
been  su,9^gested,  of  an  equal  or  a  reformed  representa- 
tion, it  will  be  difficult  to  discover  any  proposal  that 
has  a  tendency  to  throw  more  of  the  business  of  the 
nation  into  the  house  of  commons,  or  to  collect  a  set 
of  men  more  fit  to  transact  that  business,  or  in  gener- 
al more  interested  in  the  national  happiness  and  pros- 
perity.    One  consequence,  however,  may  be  expect' 


370  British  Constitution. 

ed  from  these  projects,  namely,  "  less  flexibility  t* 
the  influence  of  the  ft-own  '*  And  since  the  diminu- 
tion of  this  influence  is  the  declared,  and  perhaps  the 
sole  designof  the  various  schemes  that  hive  been  pro- 
duced, whether  for  regulating  the  elections,  contract- 
ing the  durationjor  for  purifying  the  constitution  of  par- 
liament by  the  exclusion  of  placemen  and  pension- 
ers ;  it  is  obvious  to  remark,  that  the  more  apt  and 
natural,  as  well  as  the  more  safe  and  quiet  way  of  at- 
taining the  same  end,  would  be,  by  a  direct  reduction 
of  the  patronage  of  the  crown,  which  might  be  ef- 
fected to  a  certain  extent  without  hazarding  farther 
consequences.  Superfluous  and  exorbitant  emolu- 
ments of  office  may  not  only  be  suppressed  for  the 
present ;  but  provisions  of  law  be  devised,  which 
should  for  the  future  restrain,  within  certain  hmits, 
the  number  and  value  of  the  offices  in  the  donation  of 
the  king. 

But  whilst  we  dispute  concerning  diff"erent  schemes 
of  reformation,  all  directed  to  the  same  end,  a  previ- 
ous doubt  occurs  in  the  debate,  whether  the  end  it- 
self be  good  or  safe — whether  the  influence  so  loudly 
complanied  of  can  be  destroyed,  or  even  much  di- 
minished without  danger  to  the  state.  "Whilst  the 
zeal  of  some  men  beholds  this  influence  with  a  jeal- 
ousy, which  nothing  but  its  entire  abolition  can  ap- 
pease, many  wise  and  virtuou  politicians  deem  a 
considerable  portion  of  it  to  be  as  necessary  a  part  of 
the  British  Constitution,  as  any  other  ingredient  in 
the  composition— -to  be  that,  indeed,  which  gives  co» 
hesi.^n  and  solidity  to  the  whole.  Were  the  measures 
of  government,  say  ihey,  opposed  from  nothing  but 
principle,  government  ought  to  have  nothing  but  the 
rectitude  of  its  measures  to  support  them  ;  but  since 
opposition  springs  from  other  motives,  government 
must  possess  an  influence  to  counteract  these  motives; 
to  produce,  not  a  bias  of  the  passions,  but  a  neutrali- 
ty :  it  must  have  some  weight  to  cast  into  the  scale 
to  set  the  balance  even.  It  is  the  nature  of  power 
always  to  press  upon  the  boundaries  which  confine  it. 
Licentiousness,  faction,  envy,  impatience  of  control 
or  inferiority  5  the  secret  pleasure  of  mortifyiag  the 


British  Const iiui ion  37 1 

great,  or  the  hope  of  dispossesshig  them  ;  a  constant 
willingness  to  question  and  thwart  whattver  is  dic- 
tated or  even  proposed  by  another ;  a  dispo  ition 
commcn  to  all  bodies  of  men  to  extend  the  claims 
and  authority  of  their  order  ;  above  all.  that  love  of 
power  and  of  shewing  it,  which  resides  more  or  less 
in  every  human  breast,  and  which,  in  popular  assem- 
blies, is  inflamed,  like  every  other  passion,  by  com- 
munication and  encouragtment ;  these  motives,  add- 
ed to  private  design'  and  resentments,  cherished  also 
by  popular  acclamation,  and  operating  upon  the^^reat 
share  of  power  already  possessed  by  the  house  of  com- 
mons, might  induce  a  majority,  or  at  least  a  large 
party  of  men  in  that  assembly,  to  unite  in  endeav- 
ouring to  draw  to  themselves  the  whole  government 
of  the  state  ;  or  at  least  so  to  obstruct  the  conduct  of 
public  affairs,  by  a  wanton  and  perverse  opposition, 
as  to  render  it  impossible  for  the  wisest  statesman  to 
carry  forwards  the  business  of  the  nation  with  success 
or  satisfaction. 

Some  passages  of  our  national  history  afford  grounds 
for  the-e  apprehensions  Before  the  accession  of  James 
the  First,  or,  at  least,  during  the  reigns  of  his  three 
immediate  predecessors,  the  gr:vernment  of  England 
was  a  government  by  force  ;  that  is,  the  king  carried 
his  measures  in  parliament  by  intimidatiGn.  A  sense 
of  per-^onal  danger  kept  the  members  of  the  house  of 
commons  in  subjection.  A  conjunction  of  f  )rtunate 
causes  delivered  at  last  the  parliament  and  nation 
from  slavery.  That  overbearing  system,  which  had 
declined  in  the  hands  of  James,  expired  early  in  the 
re\ff[\  of  his  son.  After  the  restoration,  there  suc- 
ceeded in  its  place,  and  since  the  revolution  has  been 
methodically  pursued,  the  more  successlul  expedient 
of  influence.  Now  we  remember  what  passed  between 
the  loss  of  terror,  and  the  establishment  of  influence. 
The  transactions  of  that  interval,  whatever  we  may 
think  of  their  occasion,  or  effect,  no  friend  of  regal 
government  would  wish  to  see  revived. — But  the  af- 
fairs of  this  kingdom  afford  a  more  recent  attestation 
to  the  same  doctrine.  In  the  British  colonies  of 
North  America,  the  late  assemblies  possessed  much 


372  British  Constitution. 

of  the  power  and  constitution  of  our  house  of  cora- 
mons.  The  king  and  government  of  Great  Britian 
held  no  patronage  in  the  country,  which  could  cre- 
ate attachment  and  influence,  sufficient  to  counteract 
that  restless,  arrogating  spirit,  which,  inpopulara'sem- 
blies,  when  left  to  itself,  will  never  brook  an  authori- 
ty that  checks  and  interferes  with  its  own.  To  this 
cause,  excited  perhaps  by  some  unseasonable  provo- 
cations, we  may  attribute,  as  to  their  true  and  prop- 
er original,  we  will  not  say  the  misfortunes,  but  the 
changes,  that  have  taken  place  in  the  British  empire. 
The  admonition,  which  such  examples  suggest,  will 
have  its  weight  with  those,  who  are  content  with  the 
general  frame  of  the  English  constitution  ;  and  who 
consider  stability  amongst  the  first  perfections  of  any 
government. 

We  protest,  however,  against  any  construction,  by 
which  what  is  here  said  shall  be  attempted  to  be  ap- 
plied to  the  justification  of  bribery,  or  of  any  clandes- 
tine reward  or  solicitation  v/hatever.  The  very  se- 
crecy of  such  negociations  confesses  or  begets  a  con- 
sciousness of  guilt ;  which  when  the  mind  is  once 
taught  to  endure  without  uneasiness,  the  character  is 
prepared  for  every  compliance.  And  there  is  the 
greater  danger  In  these  corrupt  practices,  as  the  extent 
of  their  operation  is  unlimited  and  unknown.  Our 
apology  relates  solely  to  that  influence,  which  re^jults 
from  the  acceptance  or  expectation  of  public  prefer- 
ments. Nor  does  the  influence,  which  we  defend,^ 
require  any  sacrifice  of  personal  probity.  In  politi- 
cal, above  all  other  subjects,  the  arguments,  or  rath- 
er the  conjectures  on  each  side  of  the  question,  are 
often  so  equally  poized,  that  the  wisest  judgments 
may  be  held  in  suspense.  These  I  call  subjects  of /"«- 
difference.  But  again;,  when  the  subject  is  not  indif- 
ferent in  itself,  it  will  appear  such  to  a  great  part  of 
those  to  whom  it  is  proposed,  for  want  of  informa- 
tion, or  reflection,  or  experience,  or  of  capacity  to 
collect  and  weigh  the  reasons  by  which  either  side  is 
supported.  These  are  subjects  of  apparent  indifference. 
This  indifference  occurs  still  more  frequently  in  per- 
sonal contests  ;  in  which,  we  do  not  often  discover 


British  Consiiifition,  373 

any  reason  of  public  utility,  for  the  preference  of  one 
competitor  to  another.  These  cases  compose  the 
province  of  influence  ;  that  i.',  the  decision  in  these 
eases  will  inevitably  be  determined  by  influence  of 
some  sort  or  other.  The  only  doubt  is,  what  influ- 
ence shall  be  admitted.  If  you  remove  the  influence 
of  the  crown,  it  is  only  to  make  way  for  influence 
from  a  different  quarter.  If  motives  of  expectation 
and  gratitude  be  withdrawn^  other  motives  will  suc- 
ceed in  their  place,  acting  probably  in  an  opposite  di- 
rection, but  equally  irrelative  and  external  to  the 
proper  merits  of  the  question.  There  exist,  as  we 
have  seen,  passions  in  the  human  heart,  which  will 
always  make  a  strong  party  against  the  executive 
power  of  a  mixed  government.  According  as  the 
disposition  of  parliament  is  friendly  or  adverse  to  the 
reccflnmendation  of  the  crown  in  matters  which  are 
really  or  apparently  indifferent,  as  indifference  hath 
been  now  explained,  the  business  of  empire  will  be 
transacted  with  ease  and  convenience,  or  embarrassed 
with  endless  contention  and  difficulty.  Nor  is  k  <i 
conclusion  founded  in  justice,  or  warranted  by  expe- 
rience, that,  because  men  are  induced  by  views  of  in- 
terest to  yield  their  consent  to  measures,  concerning 
which  their  judgment  decides  nothing,  they  may  be 
brought  by  the  same  influence,  to  act  in  deliberate 
opposition  to  knowledge  and  duty.  Whoever  re- 
views the  operations  of  government  in  this  countr\- 
since  the  revolution,  will  find  few,  even  of  the  most; 
questionable  measures  of  administration,  about  which 
the  best  instructed  judgment  might  not  have  doubt- 
ed at  the  time  :  but  of  which  he  may  affirm  with 
certainty,  that  they  were  indifferent  to  the  greatest 
part  of  'those  who  concurred  in  them.  From  the 
success  or  the  facility,  with  which  they  who  dealc 
out  the  patronage  of  the  crown  carried  measures  like 
these,  ought  we  to  conclude,  that  a  similar  applica- 
tion of  honours  and  emoluments  would  procure  the 
consent  of  parliament  to  counsels  evidently  detriment- 
al to  the  common  v^elfare  ? — Is  there  not,  on  tht- 
contrary,  more  reason  to  fear,  that  the  prerogative, 
if  deprived  of  influence,  would  not  be  lor.fr  able  to 


3745  Of  the  A'm'misiration  of  Justice. 

support  itself?  For  when  we  reflect  upon  the  power 
of  the  house  of  commons  to  extort  a  compliance 
with  its  resolutions  from  the  other  parts  of  the  le- 
gislature ;  or  to  put  to  death  the  constitution  by  a 
refusal  of  the  annual  grants  of  money,  to  the  sup- 
port of  the  necessary  functions  of  government — when 
we  reflect  also  what  motives  there  are,  which,  in  the 
vicissitudes  of  political  interests  and  pas.^ions,  may 
one  day  arm  and  point  this  power  against  the  execu- 
tive magistrate  ;  when  we  attend  to  these  considera- 
tions, we  shall  be  led  perhaps  to  acknowledge,  that 
there  is  not  more  of  paradox  than  of  truth  in  that  im- 
portant, but  much  decried  apophthegm,  "  that  an  in- 
dependent parliament  is  incompatible  with  the  exist- 
ence of  the  monarchy.'* 


CHAPTER  VIII. 
OF  THE  ADMINISTRATION  OF  JUSTICE. 


1  HE  first  maxim  of  a  free  state  is,  that  the 
laws  be  made  by  one  set  of  men,  and  administered  by 
another ;  in  other  words,  that  the  legislative  and 
judicial  characters  be  kept  separate.  When  these 
offices  ave  united  in  the  same  person  or  assembly, 
particular  laws  are  made  for  particular  cases,  spring- 
ing oftentimes  from  partial  motives,  and  directed  to 
private  ends  :  whilst  they  are  kept  separate,  genera! 
laws  are  made  by  one  body  of  men,  without  foresee- 
ing whom  they  may  affect ;  and,  when  made,  must 
be  applied  by  the  other,  let  them  affect  whom  they 
will. 

For  the  sake  of  illustration,  let  it  be  supposed,  in 
this  country,  either  that,  parliaments  being  laid  aside, 
the  courts  of  Westminster  Hall  made  their  own  1  ws  ; 
or  that  the  two  houses  of  parliament,  with  the  king 
at  their  head,  tried,  and  .decided  causes  at  their  bar  : 
it  is   evident,  in  the   first  place,  that  the   decisions  cjf 


Of  the  Administration  of  Justice.  315 

such  a  judicature  would  be  so  many  laws ;  and,  In 
the  *second  place,  that,  when  the  parties  and  the  inter- 
ests to  be  affected  by  the  law  were  known,  the  incli- 
nations of  the  law-makers  would  inevitably  attach  on 
one  side  or  the  other ;  and  thdt,  where  there  were 
neither  any  fixed  rules  to  regulate  their  determina- 
tions, nor  any  superior  power  to  control  their  pro- 
ceedings, these  inclinations  would  interfere  with  the 
integrity  of  public  justice.  The  consequence  of 
which  must  be,  that  the  subjects  of  such  a  constitu- 
tion would  live  either  without  any  constant  laws, 
that  is,  without  any  known  pre-established  rules  of 
adjudication  whatever ;  or,  under  laws  made  for 
particular  cases  and  particular  persons,  and  partaking 
of  the  contradictions  and  iniquity  of  the  motives,  to 
which  they  owed  their  origin. 

Which  dangers,  by  the  division  of  the  legislative 
and  judicial  functions,  are  in  this  country  effectually 
provided  against.  Parliament  knows  not  the  indi- 
viduals upon  whom  its  acts  will  operate ;  it  has  no 
cases  or  parties  before  it;  no  private  designs  to  serve; 
consequently,  its  resolutions  will  be  suggested  by  the 
consideration  of  universal  effects  and  tendencies, 
which  always  produces  impartial,  and  commonly  ad- 
vantageous regulations.  When  laws  are  made,  courts 
of  justice,  whatever  be  the  disposition  of  the  judges, 
must  abide  by  them  ;  for  the  legislative  being  neces- 
sarily the  supreme  power  of  the  state,  the  judicial  and 
every  other  power  is  accountable  to  that ;  and  it  can- 
not be  doubted,  but  that  the  persons,  who  possess  the 
sovereign  authority  of  government,  will  be  tenacious 
of  the  laws  which  they  themselves  prescribe,  and  suf- 
ficiently jealous  of  the  assumption  of  dispensing  and 
legislative  power  by  any  others. 

This  fundamental  rule  of  civil  jurisprudence  is  vio- 
lated in  the  case  of  acts  of  attainder  or  confiscation,  in 
bills  of  pains  and  penalties,  and  in  all  expost  facio  laws 
whatever,  in  which  parliament  exercises  the  double 
office  of  legislator  and  judge.  And  whoever  either 
Und(?rstands  the  value  of  the  rule  itself,  or  collects  the 
z  z 


376  OftheAdmmhtraiion  of  Justice. 

history  of  those  instances  in  which  it  has  been  inva- 
ded, will  be  induced,  I  believe,  to  acknowledge,  tlrat 
it  had  been  wiser  and  safer  never  to  have  departed 
from  ito  He  will  confess,  at  least,  that  nothing  but 
the  most  manifest  and  immediate  peril  of  the  com- 
monwealth v/ill  justify  a  repetition  of  these  dangerous 
examples.  If  the  laws  in  being  do  not  punish  an  of- 
fender, let  him  go  unpunished  ;  let  the  legislature, 
admonished  of  the  defect  of  the  laws,  provide  against 
the  commission  of  future  crimes  of  the  same  sort. 
The  escape  of  one  delinquent  can  never  produce  so 
much  harm  to  the  community,  as  may  arise  from  the 
infraction  of  a  rule,  upon  which  the  purity  of  public 
justice,  and  the  existence  of  civil  liberty,  essentially 
depend. 

The  next  security  for  the  impartial  administration 
of  justice,  especially  in  decisions  to  which  government 
is  a  party,  is  the  independency  of  the  judges.  As 
protection  against  every  illegal  attack  upon  the  rights 
of  the  subject  by  the  vservants  of  the  crown  is  to  be 
sought  for  from  these  tribunals,  the  judges  of  the 
[arid  become  not  unfrequently  the  arbitrators  between 
the  king  and  the  people.  On,  which  account  they 
ought  to  be  independent  of  either ;  or,  what  is  the 
same  thing,  equally  dependent  upon  both  ;  that  is,  if 
they  be  appointed  by  the  one,  they  should  be  re- 
moveable  only  by  the  other.  This  was  the  policy 
which  dictated  that  memorable  improvement  in  our 
constitution,  by  which  the  judges,  who,  before  the 
revolution,  held  their  offices  during  the  pleasure  of 
the  king,  can  now  only  be  deprived  of  them  by  an 
address  from  both  houses  jo  parliament ;  as  the  most 
regulai',  solemn,  and  authentic  way,  by  which  the 
dissatisfaction  of  the  people  can  be  expressed.  To 
make  this  independency  of  the  judges  complete,  the 
public  salaries  of  their  office  ought  not  only  to  be  cer- 
tain, both  in  amount  and  continUv^nce,  but  so  liberal 
as  to  secure  thoir  integrity  from  the  temptation  of 
secret  bribes  :  which  liberality  will  snswer  also  the 
farther  purpose  of  preserving  their  jurisdiction  from 
contempt,   and  their  characters   from  suspicion  ;    a-3 


Of  the  Administration  of  Justice,  377 

well  as  of  rendering  the  oiBce  worthy  of  the  ambition 
tof  men  of  eminence  in  their  profession. 

A  third  precaution,  to  be  observed  in  the  forma- 
tion of  courts  of  justice,  is,  that  the  number  of  the 
judges  be  small.  For,  beside  that  the  violence  and 
tumult  inseparable  from  large  assemblies  are  incon- 
sistent with  the  patience,  method,  and  attention  re- 
quisite in  judicial  investigations  ;  beside  that  all  pas- 
sions and  prejudices  act  with  augmented  force  upon 
a  collected  multitude  ;  beside  these  objections,  judges, 
when  they  are  numerous,  divide  the  shame  of  an  un- 
just determination  ;  they  shelter  themselves  under  one 
another's  example  ;  each  man  thinks  his  own  charac- 
ter hid  in  the  crowd  :  for  which  reason  the  judges 
ought  always  to  be  so  few,  as  that  the  conduct  of  each 
may  be  conspicuous  to  public  observation  ;  that  each 
may  be  responsible  in  his  separate  and  particular  rep^ 
utation  for  the  decisions  in  which  he  concurs.  .  The 
truth  of  the  above  remark  has  been  exemplified  in 
this  country,  in  the  effects  of  that  wise  regulation 
which  transferred  the  trial  of  parliamentary  elections 
from  the  house  of  commons  at  large,  to  a  select  com- 
mittee of  that  house  composed  of  thirteen  members. 
This  alteration,  simply  hy  reducing  the  number  of  the 
judges,  and,  in  consequence  of  that  reduction,  expo- 
sing the  judicial  conduct  of  each  to  public  animad- 
version, has  given  to  a  judicature,  which  had  been 
long  swayed  by  interest  and  solicitation,  the  solemnity 
and  virtue  of  the  most  upright  tribunals.— ^I  should 
prefer  an  even  to  an  odd  number  of  judges,  and  four 
to  almost  any  other  number ;  for  in  this  number, 
beside  that  it  sufficiently  sonsults  the  idea  of  separate 
responsibility,  nothing  can  be  decided  but  by  a  ma- 
jority of  three  to  one.  And  when  we  consider  that 
every  decision  establishes  a  perpetual  precedent,  we 
shall  allow  that  it  ouglit  to  proceed  from  an  author- 
ity not  less  than  this.  If  the  court  be  equally  divi- 
ded, nothing  is  done  ;  things  remain  as  they  were  \ 
with  some  inconveniency,  indeed,  to  the  parties,  but 
without  the  danger  to  the  public  of  a  hasty  prece- 
$lent. 


378  Of  the  Administration  of  Justice. 

A  fourth  requisite  in  the  constitution  of  a  court  of 
justice,  and  equivalent  to  many  checks  upon  the  dis- 
cretion of  judges,  is,  that  its  proceedings  be  carried 
on  in  pubHc,  apertis  foribus  ;  not  only  before  a  pro- 
miscuous concourse  of  bystanders,  but  in  the  audi- 
ence of  the  whole  profession  of  the  law.  The  opin- 
ion of  the  Bar  concerning  what  passes  will  be  impar- 
tial ;  and  will  commonly  guide  that  of  the  public. 
The  most  corrupt  judge  will  fear  to- indulge  his  dis- 
honest wishes  in  the  presence  of  such  an  assembly  : 
he  must  encounter  what  few  can  support,  the  censure 
of  his  equals  and  companions,  together  with  the  in- 
dignation and  reproaches  of  his  country. 

Something  is  also  gained  to  the  public  by  appoint- 
ing two  or  three  courts  of  concurrent  jurisdiction, 
that  it  may  remain  in  the  option  of  the  suitor  to 
which  he  will  resort.  By  this  means  a  tribunal,  which 
may  happen  to  be  occupied  by  ignorant  or  suspected 
judges,  will  be  deserted  for  others  that  possess  more 
of  the  confidence  of  the  nation. 

But,  lastly,  if  several  courts  co-ordinate  to,  and  in- 
dependent of  each  other,  subsist  together  in  the  coun- 
try, it  seems  necessary  that  the  appeals  from  all  of 
them  should  meet  and  terminate  in  the  same  judica- 
ture ;  in  order  that  one  supreme  tribunal,  by  whose- 
final  sentence  all  others  are  bound-  and  concluded, 
may  superintend  and  preside  over  the  rest.  This  con- 
stitution Is  necessary  for  two  purposes  :-— to  preserve 
an  uniformity  to  the  decisions  of  inferior  courts,  and 
to  maintain  to  each  the  proper  limits  of  Its  jurisdic- 
tion. Without  a  common  superior,  different  courts 
might  establish  contradictory  rules  of  adjudication, 
and  the  contradiction  be  final  and  without  remedy  ; 
the  same  question  might  receive  opposite  determina- 
tions, according  as  it  was  brought  before  one  court 
or  another,  and  the  determination  in  each  be  ulti- 
mate and  irreversible.  A  common  appellant  juris- 
diction prevents  or  puts  an  end  to  this  confusion. 
For  when  the  judgments  upon  appeals  are  consistent, 
which  may  be  expected,  whilst  it  is  the  same  court 
which  is  at  last  resorted  to,  the  different  courts,  fro.n< 


Of  the  Administration  of  Justice.  379 

which  the  appeals  are  brought,  will  be  reduced  to  a 
like  consistency  with  one  another.  Moreover,  if 
questions  arise  between  courts  independent  of  each 
other,  concerning  the  extent  and  boundaries  of  their 
respective  jurisdiction,  as  each  will  be  desirous  of  en- 
larging its  own,  an  authority  which  both  acknowl- 
edge can  alone  adjust  the  controversy.  Such  a  pow- 
er, therefore,  must  reside  somewhere,  lest  the  rights 
and  repose  of  the  country  be  distracted,  by  the  end" 
less  opposition  and  mutual  encroachments  of  its  courts 
of  justice. 

There  are  two  kinds  of  judicature  ;  the  one,  where 
the  office  of  the  judge  is  permanent  in  the  same  per- 
son, and  consequently  where  the  judge  is  appointed 
and  known  long  before  the  trial ;  the  other,  where 
the  judge  is  determined  by  lot  at  the  time  of  the  trial, 
and  for  that  turn  only.  The  one  may  be  called  a 
Jixed^  the  other  a  ^(^j-?^^/ judicature.  From  the  former 
may  be  expected  those  qualifications,  which  are  pre- 
ferred and  sought  for  in  the  choice  of  judges,  and 
that  knowledge  and  readiness  which  result  from  ex- 
perience in  the  office.  But  then,  as  the  judge  is 
known  beforehand,  he  is  accessible  to  the  parties  ; 
there  exists  a  possibility  of  secret  management  and 
undue  practices  :  or,  in  contents  between  the  crown 
and  the  subject,  the  judge  appointed  by  the  .crown 
may  be  suspected  of  partiality  to  bis  patron  ;  or  of 
entertaining  inclinations  favourable  to  the  authority 
frpm  which  he  derives  his  own.  The  advantage  at- 
tending the  second  kind  of  judicature  is  indifferency  ; 
the  defect,  the  want  of  that  legal  science,  which  pro- 
duces uniformity  and  justice  in  legal  decisions.  The 
construction  of  English  courts  of  law,  in  which  causes 
are  tried  by  a  jury  with  the  assistance  of  a  judge,  com- 
bines the  two  specie?  together  with  peculiar  succcvss. 
This  admirable  contrivance  unites  the  wisdom  of  a  fix- 
ed with  the  integrity  of  a  casual  judicature,  and  avoids, 
in  a  great  measure,  the  inconveniences  of  both. 
The  judge  imparts  to  the  jury  the  benefit  of  his  eru- 
dition and  experience  ;  the  jury,  by  their  disinterest- 
edness, checli  any  corrupt  partialities  which  previous 


380  Of  the  Admimstration  of  Justice. 

application  may  have  produced  in  the  judge.  If  the 
determination  was  left  to  the  judge,  the  party  might 
suffer  under  the  superior  interest  of  his  adversary  : 
if  it  was  left  to  an  uninstructed  jury,  his  rights  would 
be  in  still  greater  danger  from  the  ignorance  of  those 
who  were  to  decide  upon  them.  The  present  wise 
admixture  of  chance  and  choice  in  the  constitution  of 
the  court,  in  which  his  cause  is  tried,  guards  him 
equally  against  the  fear  of  injury  from  either  of  these 
causes. 

In  proportion  to  the  acknowledged  excellency  of 
this  mode  of  trial,  every  deviation  from  it  ought  to 
be  watched  with  vigilance,  and  admitted  by  the  legis- 
lature with  cautioa  and  reluctance.  Summary  con- 
victions before  justices  of  the  peace,  especially  lor  of- 
fences against  the  game  laws  ;  courts  of  conscience, 
extending  the  jurisdiction  of  courts  of  equity  ;  urg- 
ing too  far  the  distinction  between  questions  of  law 
and  matters  of  fact,  are  all  so  many  infringements 
Upon  this  great  charter  of  public  safety. 

Nevertheless,  the  trial  by  jury  is  sometimes  found 
inadequate  to  the  adininistrarion  of  equal  ju;.tice. 
This  imperfection  takes  place  chii  fly  in  disputes,  in 
which  some  popular  passion  or  prejudice  intervenes  ; 
as  where  a  particular  order  of  men  advance  claims 
upon  the  rest  of  the  community,  which  is  the  case 
of  the  clergy  contending  for  tythes ;  or  where  an 
order  of  men  are  obnoxious  by  their  profession,  as 
are  officers  of  the  revenue,  bailiff  ,  bailiff's  followers, 
and  other  low  ministers  of  the  law  ;  or  where  one 
of  the  parties  has  an  interest  in  common  with  the 
ganeral  interest  of  the  jurors,  and  that  of  the  other 
is  opposed  to  it,  as  in  contests  between  landlords  and 
tenants,  between  lords  of  manors  and  the  holders  of 
estates  under  them  ;  or,  lastly,  where  the  minds  of 
men  are  inflamed  by  political  dissensions  or  religous 
hatred.  These  prejudices  act  most  powerfully  upon 
the  common  people,  of  which  order  juries  are  made 
up.  The  force  and  danger  of  them  are  also  increased 
by  the  very  circumstance  of  taking  juries  out  of  the 
county  in  which  the  subject  of  dispute   arisesc     lu 


Of  the  Jldminisiration  of  Justice,  381 

the  neighbourhood  of  the  parties  the  cause  is  often  ' 
prejudged  :  and  these  secret  decisions  of  the  mind 
proceed  commonly  more  upon  sentiments  of  favour 
or  hatred  ;  upon  some  opinion  concerning  the  sect, 
family,  profession,  character,  connexions,  or  circum- 
stances of  the  parties,  than  upon  any  knowledge  or 
discussion  of  the  proper  merits  of  the  question. 
More  exact  justice  would,  in  many  instances,  be  ren- 
dered to  the  suitors,  if  the  determination  were  left 
entirely  to  the  judges ;  provided  we  could  depend 
upon  the  same  purity  of  conduct,  when  the  power  of 
these  magistrates  was  enlarged,  which  they  have  long 
manifested  in  the  exercise  of  a  mixed  and  restrained 
authority.  But  this  is  an  experiment  too  big  with 
public  danger  to  be  hazarded.  The  effects,  however, 
of  some  local  prejudices  might  be  safely  obviated,  by 
a  law  empowering  the  court,  in  which  the  action  is 
brought,  to  send  the  cause  to  trial  in  a  distant  county  i 
the  expenses  attending  the  change  of  place,  always  - 
falling  upon  the  party  who  applied  for  it. 

There  is  a  second  division  of  courts  of  justice, 
which  presents  a  new  alternative  of  difficulties- 
Either  one,  two,  or  a  few  sovereign  courts  may  be 
erected  in  the  metropolis,  for  the  whole  kingdom  to 
resort  to  ;  or  courts  of  local  jurisdiction  may  be  fixed 
in  various  provinces  and  districts  of  the  empire. 
Great,  though  opposite,  inconveniences  attend  each 
arrangement.  If  the  court  be  remote  and  solemn, 
it  becomes,  by  the^e  very  qualities,  expensive  and  dil- 
atory :  the  expense  is  unavoidably  increased  when 
witnesses,  parties,  and  agents  must  be  brought  to  at- 
tend from  distant  parts  of  the  country  :  and,  where 
the  whole  judicial  business  of  a  large  nation  is  col- 
lected into  a  fc*w  superior  tribunals,  it  will  be  found 
impossible,  even  if  the  prolixity  of  forms  which  re- 
tards the  progress  of  causes  were  removed,  to  give  a 
prompt  hearing  to  every  complaint,  or  an  immediate 
answer  to  any.  On  the  other  hand,  if  to  remedy 
these  evils,  and  to  render  the  administration  of  ju?- 
tice  cheap  and  speedy,  domestic  and  summary  tri- 
bunals be  erected  in  each  neighbourhocTd.  the  advan- 


382  Of  the  Admhmtraiion  of  Justice. 

tage  of  such  courts  will  be  accompanied  with  all  the 
dangers  of  ignorance  and  partiality,  and  with  the 
certain  mischief  of  confusion  and  contrariety  in  their 
decisions.  The  law  of  England,  by  its  circuit  or 
itinerary  courts,  contains  a  provision  for  the  distri- 
bution of  private  justice,  in  a  great  measure  relieved 
from  both  these  objections.  As  the  presiding  magis- 
trate comes  into  the  country  a  stranger  to  its  preju- 
dices, rivalships  and  connexions,  he  brings  with  him 
none  of  those  attachments  and  regards,  which  are  so 
apt  to  pervert  the  courts  of  justice,  when  the  parties 
and  the  judges  inhabit  the  same  neighbourhood. 
Again,  as  this  magistrate  is  usually  one  of  the  judges 
of  the  supreme  tribunals  of  the  kingdom,  and  has 
passed  his  life  in  the  study  and  administration  of  the 
laws,  he  possesses,  it  may  be  presumed,  those  profes- 
sional qualifications,  which  befit  the  dignity  and  im- 
portance of  his  station.  Lastly,  as  both  he,  and  the 
advocates  who  accompany  him  in  his  circuit,  are  em- 
ployed in  the  business  of  those  superior  courts,  (to 
which  also  their  proceedings  are  amenable)  they  will 
naturally  conduct  themselves  by  the  rules  of  adjudi- 
cation, which  they  have  applied,  or  learnt  there  :  and 
by  this  means  maintain,  what  constitutes  a  principal 
perfection  of  civil  government,  one  law  of  the  land  in 
every  part  and  district  of  the  empire. 

Next  to  the  constitution  of  courts  of  justice,  wc  are 
naturally  led  to  consider  the  maxims  which  ought  to 
guide  their  proceedings :  and  upon  this  subject,  the 
chief  inquiry  will  be,  how  far,  and  for  what  reasons, 
it  is  expedient  to  adhere  to  former  determinations  ; 
or  whether  it  be  necessary  for  judges  to  attend  to 
any  other  consideration  than  the  apparent  and  par- 
ticular equity  of  the  case  before  them.  Now,  al- 
though to  assert,  that  precedents  established  by  one 
set  of  judges,  ought  to  be  incontrovertible  by  their 
successors  in  the  same  jurisdiction,  or  by  those  who 
exercise  a  higher,  would  be  to  attribute  to  the  sen- 
tence of  those  judges  all  the  authority  we  ascribe  to 
the  most  solemn  acts  of  the  legislature  ;  yet,  the  gen- 
eral security  of  private  rights,  and  of  civil  life,  re- 


Of  the  Administration  of  Justice.  385 

quires,  that  such  precedents  especially  if  they  have 
been  confirmed  by  repeated  adjudications,  should 
not  be  overthrown  without  a  detection  of  manife.^t 
error,  or  without  some  imputation  of  dishonesty  up- 
on the  court  by  whose  judgment  the  question  was 
first  decided.  And  this  deference  to  prior  decisions 
is  founded  upon  two  reasons  :  first,  that  the  discre- 
tion of  judges  may  be  bound  down  by  positive  rules  ; 
and,  secondly,  that  the  subject,  upon  every  occa  ion, 
in  which  his  legal  interest  is  concerned,  may  know 
beforehand  how  to  act,  and  what  to  expect.  To  set 
judges  free  from  any  obligation  to  conform  them- 
selves to  the  decisions  of  their  predecessors,  would  be 
to  lay  open  a  latitude  of  judging,  with  which  no  de- 
scription of  men  can  safely  be  intrusted  :  it  would  be 
to  allow  space  for  the  exercise  of  those  concealed  par- 
tialities, which,  since  they  cannot  by  any  human 
policy  be  excluded,  ought  to  be  confined  by  bounda- 
ries and  landmarks.  It  is  in  vain  to  allege,  that  the 
superintendency  of  parliament  is  always  at  hand  to 
control  and  punish  abuses  of  judicial  discretion.  By 
what  rules  can  parliament  proceed  ?  How  shall  they 
pronounce  a  decision  to  be  wrong,  where  there  ex- 
ists no  acknowledged  measure  or  standard  of  what  is 
right,  which,  in  a  multitude  of  instances,  would  be 
the  case,  if  prior  determinations  w^ere  no  longer  to 
be  appealed  to  ? 

Diminishing  the  danger  of  partiality,  is  one  thing 
gained  by  adhering  to  precedents  ;  but  not  the  prin- 
cipal thing.  The  subject  of  every  system  of  laws 
must  expect  that  decision  in  his  own  case,  which  he 
knows  that  others  have  received  in  cases  similar  to 
his.  If  he  expect  not  this,  he  can  expect  nothing. 
There  exists  no  other  rule  or  principle  of  reasoning, 
by  which  he  can  foretel,  or  even  conjecture  the  event 
of  a  judicial  contest.  To  remove  therefore  the  grounds 
of  this  expectation,  by  rejecting  the  force  and  author- 
ity of  precedents,  is  to  entail  upon  the  subject  the 
w^orst  property  of  slavery — to  have  no  assurance  of 
his  rights,  or  knowledge  of  his  duty.  The  quiet  al- 
.so  of  the  country,  as  well  as  the  confidence  ?nd  satis- 

AAA 


S84  Of  the  Ad?ninistraiion  of  Jmii^e. 

faction  of  each  man's  mind,  requires  uniformity  in 
judicial  proceedings.  Nothing  quells  a  spirit  of  liti- 
gation like  despair  of  success :  therefore,  nothing  so 
eompletely  puts  an  end  to  law- suits,  as  a  rigid  adhe- 
rence to  known  rules  of  adjudication.  Whilst  the 
event  is  uncertain,  which  it  ever  must  be,  whilst  it  is 
uncertain  whether  former  determinations  upon  the 
same  subject  will  be  followed  or  not,  law-suit*  will  be 
endless  and  innumerable :  men  will  commonly  en- 
gage in  them,  either  from  the  hope  of  prevailing  in 
their  claims,  which  the  smallest  chance  is  sufficient  to 
encourage  ;  or  with  the  design  of  intimidating  their 
adversary  by  the  terrors  of  a  dubious  litigation. 
When  justice  is  rendered  to  the  parties,  only  half  the 
business  of  a  court  of  ju  tice  is  done:  the  more  im- 
portant part  of  its  office  remains — to  put  an  end,  for 
the  future,  to  every  fear,  and  quarrel,  and  expense  up- 
on the  same  point ;  and  so  to  regulate  its  proceedings, 
that  not  only  a  doubt  once  decided  may  be  stirred  no 
more,  but  that  the  whole  train  of  law-suits,  which  is- 
sue from  one  uncertainty,  may  die  with  the  parent 
question.  Now  this  advantage  can  only  be  attained 
by  considering  each  decision  as  a  direction  to  succeed- 
ing judges. — And  it  should  be  observed,  that  every 
departure  from  former  determinations,  especially  if 
they  have  been  often  repeated,  or  long  submitted  to, 
shakes  the  stability  of  all  legal  title.  It  is  not  fixing  a 
point  anew  ;  it  is  leaving  every  thing  unfixed.  For, 
by  the  same  stretch  of  power,  by  which  the  present 
race  of  judges  take  upon  them  to  contradict  the  judg- 
ment of  their  predecessors,  those  who  try  the  ques- 
tion next,  may  set  aside  theirs. 

From  an  adherence,  however,  to  precedents,  by 
which  so  much  is  gained  to  the  public,  two  conse- 
quences arise  which  are  often  lamented  ;  the  hardship 
of  particular  determinations,  and  the  intricacy  of  the 
law  as  a  science.  To  the  first  of  these  complaints,  we 
must  apply  this  reflection,  "  that  uniformity  is  of 
more  importance  than  equity,  in  proportion  as  a  gen- 
eral uncertainity  would  be  a  greater  evil  than  partic- 
\ilar  injustice.'*     The   second   is   attended   with  no 


Of  the  Administration  of  Justice.  385 

greater  inconveniency  than  that  of  erecting  the  prac- 
tice of  the  law  into  a  separate  profession  :  which  this 
reason,  we  allow,  makes  necessary  ;  for  if  we  attrib- 
ute so  much  authority  to  precedents,  it  is  expedient 
that  they  be  known  in  every  cause,  both  to  the  advo- 
cates and  to  the  judge  :  this  knowledge  cannot  be 
general,  since  it  i*  the  fruit  oftentimes  of  laborious 
research,  or  demands  a  memory  stored  with  long- 
collected  erudition. 


To  a  mind  revolving  upon  the  subject  of  human 
jurisprudence,  there  frequently  occurs  this  question  ; 
why,  since  the  maxims  of  natural  justice  are  few  and 
evident,  do  there  arise  so  many  doubts  and  contro- 
versies in  their  application  ?  Or,  in  other  words,  how 
comes  it  to  pass,  that,  although  the  principles  of  the 
law  of  nature  be  simple,  and  for  the  most  part  suffi- 
ciently obvious,  there  should  exist  nevertheless,  in 
every  system  of  municipal  lavt^s,  and  in  the  actual  ad- 
ministration of  relative  justice,  numerous  uncertain- 
ties and  acknowledged  difficulty  ?  Whence,  it  may 
be  asked,  so  much  room  for  litigation,  and  so  many 
subsisting  disputes,  if  the  rules  of  humam  duty  be 
neither  obscure  nor  dubious  ?  If  a  system  of  morality, 
containing  both  the  precepts  of  revelation.^  and  the 
deductions  of  reason,  may  be  comprised  within  the 
compass  of  one  moderate  volume  ;  and  the  moralist 
be  able,  as  he  pretends,  to  describe  the  rights  and  ob- 
ligations of  mankind,  in  all  the  different  relations 
they  may  hold  to  one  another,  what  need  of  those 
codes  of  po><itive  and  particular  institutions,  of  those 
tomes  of  statutes  and  reports,  which  require  the  em- 
ployment of  a  long  life  even  to  peruse  ?  And  this 
question  is  immediately  connected  with  the  argument 
which  has  been  discussed  in  the  preceding  paragraph  ; 
for  unless  there  be  found  some  greater  uncertainty  in 
the  law  of  nature,  or  what  may  be  called  natural  equi- 
ty, when  it  comes  to  be  applied  to  real  cases  and  to 
actual  adjudication,  than  what  appears  in  the  rules 
and  principles  of  the  science,  as  delivered  in  the  wri» 
tings  of  those  who  treat  of  the  subject,  it  were  better 


386  Of  the  Administration  of  Justice. 

that  the  determination  of  every  cause  should  be  left 
to  the  conscience  of  the  judge,  unfettered  by  prece- 
dents and  authorities  ;  since  the  very  purpose  for 
which  these  are  introduced,  is  to  give  a  certainty  to 
judicial  proceedings,  which  such  proceedings  would 
want  without  them. 

Now,  to  account  for  the  existence  of  so  many  sour- 
ces of  litigation,  notwithstanding  the  clearness  and 
perfection  of  natural  justice,  it  should  be  observed,  in 
the  first  place,  that  treatises  of  morality  always  sup- 
pose facts  to  be  ascertained  ;  and  not  only  so,  but  the 
intention  likewise  of  the  parties  to  be  known  and  laid 
bare.  For  example,  when  we  pronounce  that  prom- 
ises ought  to  be  fulfilled,  in  that  sense  in  which  the 
promiser  apprehended,  at  the  time  of  making  the 
promise,  the  other  party  received  and  understood  it, 
the  apprehension  of  one  side,  and  the  expectation  of 
the  other,  must  be  discovered  before  this  rule  can  be 
reduced  to  practice,  or  applied  to  the  determination 
of  any  actual  dispute.  Wherefore  the  discussion  of 
facts,  which  the  moralist  supposes  to  be  settled  ;  the 
discovery  of  intentions,  which  he  presumes  to  be 
known,  still  remain  to  exercise  the  inquiry  of  courts 
of  justice.  And  as  these  facts  and  intentions  are  oft- 
en to  be  inferred,  or  rather  conjectured,  from  ob- 
scure indications,  from  suspicious  testimony,  or  from 
a  comparison  of  opposite  and  contending  probabili- 
ties,  they  afford  a  never-failing  supply  of  doubt  and 
litigation.  For  which  reason,  as  hath  been  observed 
in  a  former  part  of  this  work,  the  science  of  morality 
is  to  be  considered  rather  as  a  direction  to  the  par- 
ties, who  are  conscious  of  their  own  thoughts,  and 
motives,  and  designs,  to  which  consciousness  the 
teacher  of  morality  constantly  appeal> ;  than  as  a  guide 
to  the  judge,  or  to  any  third  person,  whose  arbitration 
must  proceed  upon  rules  of  evidence,  and  maxims  of 
credibility,  with  which  the  moralist  has  no  concern. 

Secondly.     There   exist   a  multitude  of  cases,  in 
which  the  law  of  nature,  that  is,  the  law  of  public  ex^ 
pediency,  prescribes  nothing,  except  that  some  cer 
tain  rule  be  adhered  to,  and  that  the  rule  actually  es- 
tablished  be   preserved  ;     it    either  being  indifferen 


Of  the  Administration  of  Justice.  iJ87 

what  rule  obtains,  or,  out  of  many  rules,  no  one  be- 
ing so  much  more  advantageous   than  the  rest,  as  to 
recompeuse  the  inconveniency  of  an  alteration.     In 
all  such  cases,   the  law  of  nature  sends  us  to  t  e  law 
of  the  land.     She  directs  that  either  some  fixed  rule  be 
introduced    by  an  act  of  the  legislature,    or  that  the 
rule    which  accident,  or   custom,  or    common  con- 
sent hath  already  established,  be  steadily  maintained. 
Thus,  in  the  descent  of  lands,    or  the  inheritance  of 
personals  from  intestate  proprietors,  whether  the  kin- 
dred of  the  grandmother,  or  of  the  great   grandmoth- 
er, shall  be  preferred  in  the  succession  ;  whether  the 
degrees  of  consanguinity  shall  be  computed   through 
the    common  ancestor,  or   from  him  ;  whether  the 
widow  shall  take  a  third  or  a  moiety  of  her  husband*s 
fortune  ;    whether  sons  shall  be  preferred  to  daugh- 
ters, or   the  elder  to  the  younger  ;  whether  the  dis- 
tinction of  age  shall  be  regarded  amongst  sifters,  as 
well  as  between  brothers  ;  in  these,  and  in  a  great  vari- 
ety of  questions  which  the  same  subject  supplies,  the 
law  of  naturedeterminesnothing.  Theonly  answcrshc 
returns  to  our  inquiries  is,  that  some  certain  and  gen- 
eral rule  be  laid  down  by  public  authority  ;  be  obey- 
ed when  laid  down  ;  and  that  the  quiet  of  the  coun- 
try   be   not    disturbed,  nor  the  expectation   of  heirs 
frustrated  by  capricious  innovations.     This  silence  or 
neutrality  of  the   law   of  nature,    whic  h  we  have  ex- 
emplified   in  the  case  of  intestacy,   holds  concerning 
a  great  part  of  the  questions  that  relate  to  the  right  or 
acquisition  of  property.    Recourse  then  m.ust  necessa- 
rily be  had  to  statutes,  or  precedents,  or  usage^  to  fix 
•what  the  law  of  nature  has  left  loose.     The  interpre- 
tation of  these  statutes,   the  search  after  precedents, 
the  investigation  of  customs,  compose    therefore  an 
unavoidable,  and  at  the  same  time,  a  large  and  intri- 
cate portion  of  forensic  business.     Positive  constitu- 
tions or  judicial  authorities  are,  in  like  manner,  want- 
ed, to   give  precision  to  many  things,  which  are  in 
their  nature  indetenninate.     The  age  of  legal  discre- 
tion ;  at  what  time  of  life  a  person  shall  be  deemed 
competent  to  the  performance  of  any  act,  which  may 
bind  his  property  ;    whether  at  twenty,   or  twenty- 


388  Of  the  Administration  of  Justice. 

one,  or  earlier,  or  later,  or  at  some  point  of  time  be- 
tween these  years,  can  only  be  ascertained  by  a  posi- 
tive rule  of  the  society  to  which  the  party  belongs. 
The  line  has  not  been  drawn  by  nature  ;  the  human 
understanding  advancing  to  maturity  by  insensible 
degrees,  and  its  progress  varying  in  different  individ- 
uals. Yet  it  is  necessary,  for  the  sake  of  mutual  secu- 
rity, that  a  precise  age  be  fixed,  and  that  what  is  fix- 
ed be  known  to  all.  It  is  on  these  occa>ions  that  the 
intervention  of  law  supplies  the  inconstancy  of 
jiature.— Again,  there  are  other  things  which  are 
perfectly  arbitrary,  and  capable  of  no  certainty  but 
what  is  given  to  them  by  positive  regulation.  It  is 
fit  that  a  limited  time  should  be  assigned  to  defend- 
ants, to  plead  to  the  complaints  alleged  against  them  ; 
and  also  that  the  default  of  pleading  within  a  certain 
time,  should  be  taken  for  a  confession  of  the  charge  ; 
but  to  how  many  days  or  months  that  term  should 
be  extended,  though  necessary  to  be  known  with  cer- 
tainty, cannot  be  known  at  all,  by  any  information 
which  the  law  of  nature  affords.  And  the  same  re- 
mark seems  applicable  to  almost  all  those  rules  of 
proceeding,  which  constitute  what  is  called  the  prac- 
tice of  the  court :  as  they  cannot  be  traced  out  by 
reasoning,  they  must  be  settled  by  authority. 

Thirdly.  In  contracts,  whether  express  or  impli. 
ed,  which  involve  a  great  number  of  conditions,  as 
in  those  which  ara  entered  into  between  masters  and 
servants,  principals  and  agents  ;  many  al  o  of  mer- 
chandize, or  for  works  of  art ;  in  some  likewise 
which  relate  to  the  negociation  of  money  or  bill^,  or 
to  the  acceptance  of  credit  or  security;  the  original 
design  and  expectation  of  the  parties  was,  that  both 
sides  should  be  guided  by  the  course  and  custom  of 
the  country  in  transactions  of  the  same  ^^ort.  Con- 
sequently, when  these  contracts  come  to  be  disputed, 
natural  justice  can  only  refer  to  that  custom.  But  as 
such  customs  are  not  always  sufficiently  uniform  or 
notorious,  but  often  to  be  collected  from  the  produc- 
tion and  comparison  of  instances  and  accounts  repug- 
nant to  one  another ;  and  each  custom  being  only 
that,  after  all,  which  amongst  a  variety  of  usagOij 


Of  the  Administration  of  Justice.  389 

seems  to  predominate,  we  have  /jere  also  ample  room 
for  doubt  and  contest. 

Fourthly.  As  the  law  of  nature,  founded  in  the 
very  construction  of  human  society,  which  is  formed 
to  endure  through  a  series  of  perishing  generations, 
requires  that  the  just  engagements  a  man  enters  into, 
should  continue  in  force  beyond  his  own  life ;  it  fol- 
lows that  the  private  rights  of  persons  frequently  de- 
pend upon  what  has  been  transacted,  in  times  remote 
from  the  present,  by  their  ancestors  or  predecessors, 
by  those  under  whom  they  claim,  or  to  whose  obliga- 
tions they,  have  succeeded.  Thus  the  questions 
which  usually  arise  between  loi'ds  of  manors  and 
their  tenants,  between  the  king  and  those  who  claim 
royal  franchises,  or  between  them  and  the  persons  af- 
fected by  these  franchises,  depend  upon  the  terms  of 
the  original  grant.  In  like  manner  every  dispute 
concerning  tythes,  in  vv'hich  an  exemption  or  compo- 
sition is  pleaded,  depends  upon  the  agreement  which 
took  place  between  the  predecessor  of  the  claimant, 
and  the  ancient  owner  of  the  land.  The  appeal  to 
these  grants  and  agreements  is  dictated  by  natural 
equity,  as  well  as  by  the  municipal  law  :  but  concern- 
ing the  existence,  or  the  conditions  of  such  old  cove- 
nants, doubts  will  perpetually  occur,  to  which  the  law 
of  nature  affords  no  solution.  The  loss  or  decay  of 
records,  the  perishableness  of  living  memory,  the  cor- 
ruption and  carelessness  of  tradition,  all  conspire  to 
multiply  uncertainties  upon  this  head  ;  what  cannot 
be  produced  or  proved,  must  be  left  to  loose  and  falli- 
ble presumption.  Under  the  same  head  may  be  in- 
cluded another  topic  of  altercation  ;,  the  tracing  out 
of  boundaries,  which  time,  or  neglect,  or  unity  of 
possession,  or  mixture  of  occupation  has  confounded 
or  obliterated.  To  which  should  be  added  a  difficul- 
ty which  often  presents  itself  in  disputes  concerning 
rights  of  luay,  both  public  and  private,  and  of  those 
easements  which  one  man  claims  in  anotiier  man's 
property  ;  namely,  that  of  distinguishing,  after  a 
iap.se  of  years,  the  us'e  of  an  indulgence  from  Hi :;  ex- 
ercise of  a  right. 


390  Of  the  Administration  of  Justice. 

Fifthly.  The  quantity  or  extent  of  an  injury, 
even  when  the  cause  and  author  of  it  are  known,  is 
often  dubious  and  undefined.  If  the  Injury  consist 
in  the  loss  of  some  specific  right,  the  value  of  the 
right  measures  the  amount  of  the  injury  ;  but  what  a 
man  may  have  suffered  in  his  person,  from  an  assault ; 
in  his  reputation,  by  slander ;  or  in  the  comfort  of 
his  life,  by  the  seduction  of  a  wife  or  daughter;  or 
what  sum  of  money  shall  be  deemed  a  reparation  for 
damages  such  as  these,  cannot  be  ascertained  by  any 
rules,  which  the  law  of  nature  supplies.  The  law  of 
nature  commands  that  reparation  be  made  ;  and  adds 
to  her  command,  that,  when  the  aggressor  and  the 
sufferer  disagree,  the  damage  be  a  sessed  byauthorized 
and  indifferent  arbitrators.  Here,  then,  recourse 
must  be  had  to  courts  of  law,  not  only  with  the  per- 
mission, but,  in  some  measure,  by  the  direction  of 
natural  justice. 

Sixthly.  When  controversies  arise  In  the  interpre- 
tation of  written  laws,  they,  for  the  most  part,  arise 
upon  some  contingency  which  the  composer  of  the 
law  did  not  foresee  or  think  of.  In  the  adjudication 
of  such  cases,  this  dilemma  presents  itself:  if  the  laws 
be  permitted  to  operate  only  upon  the  cases, 
which  were  actually  contemplated  by  the  law  makers, 
they  will  always  be  found  defective  :  if  they  be  ex- 
tended to  every  case,  to  which  the  reasoning,  and  ' 
spirit,  and  expediency  of  the  provision  seem  to  belong, 
Vv'ithout  any  farther  evidence  of  the  Intention  of  the 
legislature,  we  shall  allow  to  the  judges  a  liberty  of 
applying  the  law,  which  will  fall  very  little  short  of 
the  power  of  making  it.  If  a  literal  construction  be 
'adhered  to,  the  law  will  often  fail  of  Its  end  :  if  a 
loose  and  vague  exposition  be  admitted,  the  law 
might  as  well  have  never  been  enacted  ;  for  this  li- 
cence will  bring  back  into  the  subject  all  the  discretion 
and  uncertainty  which  it  was  the  design  of  the  legis- 
lature to  take  away.  Courts  of  justice  fire,  and  al- 
ways must  be,  embarrassed  by  these  opposite  difficul- 
ties :  and  as  it  can  never  be  known  beforehand,  ia 
what  degree  cither  consideration  may  prevail  in  the 


^  Of  the  Adminhtraiion  of  Justice,  391 

mind  of  the  judge,  there  remains  an  unavoidable  cause 
of  doubt,  and  a  place  for  contention. 

Seventhly.  The  deliberations  of  courts  of  justice 
upon  every  new  question  are  encumbered  with  addi- 
tional difficulties,  in  consequence  of  the  authority 
which  the  judgment  of  the  court  possesses,  as  a  prece- 
dent to  future  judicatures  :  which  authority  apper- 
tains not  only  to  the  conclusions  the  court  delivers, 
but  to  the  principles  and  arguments  upon  which  they 
are  built.  The  view  of  this  effect  makes  it  necessary 
for  a  judge  to  look  beyond  the  case  before  him  ;  and, 
beside  the  attention  he  owes  to  the  truth  and  justice 
of  the  cause  between  the  parties,  to  reflect  whether 
the  principles,  and  maxims,  and  reasoning,  which  he 
adopts  and  authorizes,  can  be  applied  with  safety  to 
all  cases,  which  admit  of  a  comparison  with  the  pres- 
ent. The  decision  of  the  cause,  were  the  effects  of 
the  decision  to  stop  there,  might  be  easy :  but  the 
consequence  of  establishing  the  principle,  which  such  a 
decision  a  sume<5,  may  be  difficult,  though  of  the  ut- 
most  importance,  to  be  foreseen  and  regulated. 

Finally.  After  all  the  certainty  and  rest  that  can 
be  given  to  points  of  law,  either  by  the  interposition 
of  the  legislature,  or  the  authority  of  precedents,  one 
principal  source  of  disputation,  and  into  which  in- 
deed the  greater  part  of  legal  controversies  may  be 
resolved,  will  remain  still,  namely,  "  the  competition 
of  opposite  analogies."  When  a  point  of  law  has  been 
once  adjudged,  neither  that  question,  nor  any  which 
completely  and  in  all  its  circumstances  corresponds 
with  that,  can  be  brought  a  second  time  into  dispute  : , 
but  questions  arise,  which  resemble  this  only  indi- 
rectly and  in  part,  in  certain  views  and  circumstances, 
and  whicti  m-^y  seem  to  bear  an  equal  or  a  greater  af- 
finity to  other  adjudged  cases ;  questions,  which  can  be 
brought  within  any  affixed  rule  only  by  analogy,  and 
which  hold  a  relation  by  analogy  to  different  rules. 
It  is  by  the  urging  of  the  different  analogies  that  the 
contention  of  the  Bar  is  carried  on  ;  and  it  is  in  the 
cqmparison,  adjustment,  and  reconciliation  of  them 
with  one  another ;  in  the  discerning  of  such  direc- 

B    B    B 


392  Of  the  Adminhtration  of  Jusike. 

tions,  and  in  the  framing  of  such  a  determination,  as 
may  either  save  the  various  rules  alleged  in  the  cause, 
or,  if  that  be  impossible,  may  give  up  the  weaker 
analogy  to  the  stronger,  that  the  sagacity  and  wisdom 
of  the  court  are  seen  and  exercised.  Amongst  a 
thousand  instances  of  this,  we  may  cite  one  t)f  general 
notoriety  in  the  contest  that  has  lately  been  agitated 
concerning  literary  property.  The  personal  industry, 
■which  an  author  expends,  upon  the  composition  of 
his  work,  bears  so  near  a  resemblance  to  that,  by 
which  every  other  kind  of  property  is  earned,  or  de- 
served, or  acquired  ;  or  rather  there  exists  such  a  cor- 
respondency between  what  is  created  by  the  study  of 
a  man's  mind,  and 'the  production  of  his  labour  in 
any  other  way  of  applying  it,  that  he  seems  entitled 
to  the  same  exclusive,  assignable,  and  perpetual  right 
in  both  ;  and  that  right  to  the  same  protection  of 
law.  This  was  the  analogy  contended  for  on  one  side. 
On  the  other  hand,  a  book,  as  to  the  author's  right 
in  it,  appears  similar  to  an  invention  of  art,  as  a  ma= 
chine,  an  engine,  a  medicine.  And  since  the  law  per- 
mits these  to  be  copied,  or  iniitated,  except  where  an 
exclusive  use  or  sale  is  reserved  to  the  inventor  by 
patent,  the  same  liberty  should  be  allowed  in  the  pub* 
lication  and  sale  of  books.  This  was  the  analogy 
maintained  by  the  advocates  of  an  open  trade.  And 
the  competition  of  these  opposite  analogies  constitu- 
ted the  difficulty  of  the  case,  as  far  as  the  same  was 
art^ued,  or  adjudged  upon  principles  of  common  law. 
— One  example  may  serve  to  illustrate  our  meaning ; 
but  whoever  takes  up  a  volume  of  reports,  will  find 
roost  of  the  arguments  it  contains  capable  of  the  same 
analysis  ;  although  the  analogies,  it  must  be  confessed, 
are  sometimes  so  entangled  as  not  to  be  easily  unrav- 
elled, or  even  perceived. 

Doubtful  and  obscure  points  of  lav/  are  not,  how- 
ever, nearly  so  numerous  as  they  are  apprehended  to 
be.  Out  of  the  multitude  of  causes,  which  in  the 
course  of  each  year  are  brought  to  trial  in  the  me- 
tropolis, or  upon  the  circuits,  there  are  few  in  which 
any  point  is  reserved  for  the  judgment  of  superior 
",^ourts.     Yet   these  few  contain  all  the  doubts,  with 


Of  the  Administration  of  Justice.  393 

which  the  law  is  chargeable  :  for,  as  to  the  rest,  the 
uncertainty,  as  hath  been  shewn  above,  is  not  in  the 
law,  but  in  the  means  of  human  information. 


There  are  two  peculiarities,  in  the  judicial  constitu- 
tion of  this  country,  which  do  not  carry  with  them 
that  evidence  of  their  propriety,    which   recommends 
almost  every  other  part    of  the    system.     The  first 
of  these    is    the  rule,  which  requires  that  juries  be 
unanimous  in  their   verdicts.     To    expect  that  twelve 
men,  taken  by  lot  out  of  a  promiscuous  muUitu-  r, 
should  agree  in  their  opinion  upon  points  confessedly 
dubious,  and  upon  which  oftentimes   the.  wisest  judg- 
ments might  be  held  in  suspense  ;  or  to  suppose  that 
any  real  unanimity^  or  change  of  opinion  in  the  dis- 
senting jurors,  could  be  procured  by  confining  them 
until  they  all  con^iented  to  the  .same  verdict  ;  bespeaks 
more  of  the  conceit  of  a  barbarou'  age,  than  of  the 
policy  which  could  dictate  such  an  institution  as  that 
of  juries.     Nevertheless,  the  effects  of  this  rule  are 
not  so  detrimental,  as  the  rule  itself  i-:  unreasonable: 
in   criminal   prosecutions  it  operates   considerably  in 
favour  of  the  prisoner  ;  for  if  a  juror  find  it  necessa- 
ry to  surrender-  to  the  obstinacy  of  others,  he  will 
much  more  readily  resign  his  opinion  on  the  side  of 
mercy,  than  of  condemnation  :  in  civil  suits  it  adds 
weight  to  the  direction  of  the  judge ;  for    when    a 
conference  with  one  another  does  not  seem  likely  to 
produce,  in  the  jury,  the  agreement  that  is  necessary, 
they  will  naturally  close  their  disputes  by  a  common 
submission  to  the  opinion  delivered  from  the  bench. 
However,  there  seems  to  be  less  of  the  concurrence 
of  separate  judgments  in  the  same  conclusion ;  con- 
sequently, less  assurance  that  the  conclusion  is  found- 
ed in  reasons  of  apparent  truth  and  justice,  than  if 
the  decision  were  left  to  a  plurality,  or  to  some  cer^ 
tain  majority  of  voices. 

The  second  circumstance  in  our  constitution,  which, 
however  it  may  succjeed  in  practice,  does  not  seem  to 
have  been  suggested  by  any  intelligible  fitness  in  the 


394  Of  the  Administration  of  Justice, 

nature  of  the  thing,  is  the  choice  that  is  made  of  the 
House  of  Lords ^  as  a  court  of  appeal  from  every  civil 
court  of  judicature  in  the  kingdom  ;  and  the  last  also 
and  highest  appeal,  to  vi/hich  the  subject  can  resort. 
There  appears  to  be  nothing  in  the  constitution  of 
that  ascembly  ;  in  the  education,  habits,  character,  or 
professions  of  the  members  who  compo>e  it  ;  in  the 
mode  of  their  appointment,  or  the  right  by  which 
they  succeed  to  their  ^jlaces  in  it,  that  should  qualify 
them  for  this  arduous  office  ;  except,  perhaps,  that  the 
elevation  of  their  rank  and  fortune  affords  a  security 
against  the  offer  and  influence  of  small  bribes.  Officers 
of  the  army  and  navy,  courtiers,  ecclesiastics  ;  young' 
men  who  have  just  attained  the  age  of  twenty-one, 
and  who  have  passed  their  youth  in  the  dissipation 
and  pursuits  which  commonly  accompany  the  pos- 
session or  inheritance  of  great  fortunes  ;  country  gen- 
tlemen occupied  in  the  management  of  their  estates,  or 
in  the  care  of  their  domestic  concerns  and  family  inter- 
ests ;  the  greater  part  of  the  assembly  born  to  their  sta- 
tion, that  is,  placed  in  it  by  chance ;  most  of  the  rest  ad- 
vanced to  the  peerage,  for  services,  and  from  motives 
utterly  unconnected  with  legal  erudition — the^e  men 
compose  the  tribunal,  to  which  the  constitution  in- 
trusts the  interpretation  of  her  laws,  and  the  ulti- 
mate decision  of  every  dispute  between  her  subjects — 
"These  are  the  men  assigned  to  review  judgments  of 
law,  pronounced  by  sages  of  the  profession,  who  have 
spent  their  lives  in  the  study  and  practice  of  the  ju- 
risprudence of  their  country.  Such  is  the  order 
which  our  ancestors  have  established.  The  effect  only 
proves  the  truth  of  this  maxim,  "  that  when  a  single 
institution  is  extremely  dissonant  from  other  parts  of 
the  system  to  which  it  belongs,  it  will  always  find 
some  way  of  reconciling  it>elf  to  the  analogy  which 
governs  and  pervades  the  rest.**  By  constantly  pla- 
cing in  the  hou^e  of  lords  some  of  the  most  eminent 
and  experienced  lawyers  in  the  kingdom ;  by  calling  to 
their  aid  the  advice  of  the  judges,  when  any  abstract 
question  of  law  awaits  their  determination  ;  by  the  al- 
most implicit  and  undisputed  deference,  which  the 
uninformed  part  of  the  house  find  it  necessary  to  pay 


Of  Crimes  and  Punishments.  395 

to  the  learning  ol"  their  colleagues,  the  appeal  to  the 
house  of  I  ;rds  becomes  in  fact  an  appeal  to  the  col- 
lected wisdom  of  our  supreme  courts  of  justice  :  re- 
ceiving indeed  solemnity,  but  little  perhaps  of  direc- 
tion, from  the  presence  of  the  assembly  in  which  it 
is  heard  and  determined. 

These,  however,  even  if  real,  are  minute  imperfec- 
tions. A  politician,  who  should  sit  down  to  deline- 
ate apian  for  the  dispensation  of  public  justice,  guard- 
ed against  ail  access  to  influence  and  corruption,  and 
bringing  together  the  separate  advantages  of  knowl- 
edge and  impartiality,  would  find,  w^hen  he  had 
done,  that  he  had  been  transcribing  the  judicial  con- 
stitution of  England.  And  it  may  teach  the  most 
discontented  amongst  us  to  acquiesce  in  the  govern- 
ment of  his  country ;  to  reflect,  that  the  pure,  and 
wise,  and  equal  administration  of  the  laws,  forms  the 
fir^t  end  and  blessing  of  social  union  :  and  that  this 
ble'-sing  is  enjoyed  by  him  in  a  perfection,  which  he 
will  seek  in   vain,  in  any  other  nation  of  the  world. 


CHAPJER  IX. 

.  OF  CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS. 

I  HE  proper  end  of  human   punishment  is,  not  j 
the  satisfaction  of  justice,  but  the  prevention  of  crimes.  / 
By  the  satisfaction   of  ju>tice,   I  mean  the  retribution  ' 
of  so  much  pain  for  so  much  guilt  ;  which  is  the  dis- 
pensation we  expect  at   the  hand  of  God,  and  which 
we  are  accustomed  to  consider  as  the  order  of  things 
that  perfect  justice  dictates  and   requires.      In  what 
sense,  or  whether  with    truth    in  any   sense,  justice 
may  be  said  to  demand  the  punishment   of  offenders, 
I  do  not   now  inquire  ;  but  I  assert  that  this  demand 
is  not  the  motive  or  occasion  of  human   punishment. 
What  would   it  be  to   the  magistrate   that    offences 
went   altogether  unpunished,  if  the  impunity  of  the 
offenders  were  followed  by  no  danger  or  prejudice  to 
the  commonwealth  ?  The  fear  lest  the  escape  of  the 


396  Of  Crimes  and  Punishments. 

criminal  should  encourage  him,  or  ethers  by  his  ex- 
ample, to  repeat  the  same  crime,  or  to  commit  differ, 
ent  crimes,  is  the  sole  consideration  which  authorizes 
the  infliction  of  punishment  by  human  laws.  Now 
that,  whatever  it  be,  which  is  the  cause  and  end  of 
the  punishment,  ought  undoubtedly  to  regulate  the 
measure  of  its  severity.  But  this  cause  appears  to  be 
founded,  not  in  the  guilt  of  the  offender,  but  in  the 
necessity  of  preventing  the  repetition  of  the  offence. 
And  from  hence  results  the* reason,  that  crimes  are 
hot  by  any  government  punished  in  proportion  to 
their  guilt,  nor  in  all  cases  ought  to  be  so,  but  in  pro- 
portion to  the  difficulty  and  the  necessity  of  prevent- 
ing them.  Thus  the  stealing  of  goods  privately  out 
of  a  shop,  may  not,  in  its  moral  quality,  be  more 
criminal  than  the  steaHng  of  them  out  of  a  house  ; 
yet,  being  equally  necessary,  and  more  difficult  to  be 
prevented,  the  law,  in  certain  circumstances,  de- 
nounces against  it  a  severer  punishment.  The  crime 
must  be  prevented  by  some  means  or  other;  and  con- 
sequently, whatever  means  appear  necessary  to  this 
end,  whether  they  be  proportionable  to  the  guilt  of 
the  criminal  or  not,  are  adopted  rightly,  because  they 
are  adopted  upon  the  principle  which  alone  jutifies 
the  infliction  of  punishment  at  all.  From  the  same 
consideration  it  also  follows,  that  punishment  ought 
not  to  be  employed,  much  les,>,  rendered  severe,  when 
the  crime  can  be  prevented  by  any  other  means. 
Punishment  is  an  evil  to  which  the  magi>trate  resorts 
only  from  its  being  necessary  to  the  prevention  of  a 
greater.  This  necessity  does  not  exist,  when  the 
end  may  be  attained,  that  is,  when  the  public  may 
be  defended  from  the  effects  of  the  crime,  by  any 
other  expedient.  The  sanguinary  laws  which  have 
been  made  against  counterfeiting  or  dimimshing  the 
gold  coin  of  the  kingdom  might  be  just,  until  the 
method  of  detecting  the  fraud  by  weighing  the  mo- 
ney, was  introduced  into  general  u;age.  Since  that 
precaution  was  practised,  diese  laws  have  slept ;  and 
an  execution  under  them  at  this  day  would  be  deem- 
ed a  measure  of  unjustifiable  severity.  The  same 
principle  accounts  for  a  circumstance,  which  has  been 


Of  Crimes  and  Punishments*  397 

often  censured  as  an  absurdity  in  the  penal  laws  of 
this,  and  of  most  modern  nations,  namely,  that 
breaches  of  trust  are  either  not  punished  at  all,  or  pun- 
ished with  less  rigour  than  other  frauds.— Wherefore 
is  it,  some  have  asked,  that  a  violation  of  confidence, 
which  increases  the  guilt,  should  mitigate  the  penalty  ? 
This  lenity,  or  rather  forbearance  of  the  laws,  is 
founded  in  the  most  reasonable  distinction.  A  due 
circumspection  in  the  choice  of  the  persons  whom 
they  trust ;  caution  in  limiting  the  extent  of  that 
trust ;  or  the  requiring  of  sufficient  security  for  the 
faithful  discharge  of  it,  will  commonly  guard  men 
from  injuries  of  this  description  :  and  the  law  will 
not  interpose  its  sanctions,  to  protect  negligence  and 
credulity,  or  to  supply  the  place  of  domestic  care  and 
prudence.  To  be  convinced  that  the  law  proceeds 
entirely  upon  this  consideration,  we  have  only  to  ob- 
serve, that,  where  the  confidence  is  unavoidable, 
where  no  practicable  vigilance  could  watch  the  offen- 
der, as  in  the  case  of  theft  committed  by  a  servant  in 
the  shop  or  dwelling-house  of  his  master,  or  upon 
property  to  which  he  must  necessarily  have  access, 
the  sentence  of  the  law  is  not  less  severe,  and  its  ex- 
ecution commonly  more  certain  and  rigorous,  than 
if  no  trust  at  all  had  intervened. 

It  is  in  pursuance  of  the  same  principle,  which  per- 
vades indeed  the  whole  system  of  penal  jurisprudence, 
that  the  facility,  with  which  any  species  of  crimes  is 
perpetrated,  has  been  generally  deemed  a  reason  for 
aggravating  the  punishment.  Thus,  sheep-stealing, 
horse-stealing,  the  stealing  of  cloth  from  tenters,  or 
bleaching  grounds,  by  our  lawi.,  subject  the  offenders 
to  sentence  of  death  :  not  that  these  crimes  are  in 
their  nature  more  heinous,  than  many  simple  felon- 
ies which  are  punished  by  imprisonment  or  transport 
tation,  but  because  the  property  being  more  exposed, 
requires  the  terror  of  capital  punishment  to  protect 
it.  This  severity  would  be  absurd  and  unjust,  if  the 
guilt  of  the  offender  were  the  immediate  cause  and 
measure  of  che  punishment ;  but  is  a  consistent  and 
rt;gular  consequence  of  the  supposition,  that  the  right 
of  punishment  re^sultsfrom  the  necessity  of  preventing 


398  Of  Crimes  and  Punishments, 

the  crime  :  for  if  this  be  the  end  proposed,  the  sever- 
ity of  the  punishment  must  be  increased  in  propor- 
tion to  the  expediency  and  the  difficulty  of  attaining 
this  end  ;  that  is,  in  a  proportion  compounded  of 
the  mischief  of  the  crime,  and  of  the  ease  with  which 
it  is  executed.  The  difficuky  of  discovery  is  a  cir- 
cumstance to  be  included  in  the  sgme  consideration. 
It  constitutes  indeed,  with  respect  to  the  crime,  the 
facihty  of  which  we  speak.  By  how  much,  there- 
fore,  the  detection  of  an  offender  is  more  rare  and 
uncertain,  by  so  much  the  more  severe  must  be  the 
punishment  when  he  is  detected.  Thus  the  writing 
of  incendiary  letters,  though  in  itself  a  pernicious  and 
alarming  injury,  calls  for  a  more  condign  and  exem- 
plary punishment,  by  the  very  obscurity  with  which 
the  crime  is  committed. 

From  the  justice  of  God  we  are  taught  to  look  for 
a  gradation  of  punishment,  exactly  proportioned  to 
the  guilt  of  the  offender ;  when,  therefore,  in  as  ign- 
iup-  the  degrees  of  human  punishment,  we  introduce 
considerations  di^^tinct  from  that  guilt,  and  a  propor- 
tion so  varied  by  external  circumstances,  that  equal 
crimes  frequently  undergo  unequal  punishments,  or 
the  less  crime  the  greater  ;  it  is  natural  to  demand  the 
reason  why  a  different  measure  of  punishment  should 
be  expected  from  God,  and  observed  by  man  ;  why 
that  rule,  which  befits  the  absolute  and  perfect  jus- 
tice of  the  Deity,  should  not  be  the  rule  which  ought 
to  be  pursued  and  imitated  by  human  laws  ?  The  so- 
lution of  this  difficulty  must  be  sought  for  in  those 
peculiar  attributes  of  the  divine  nature,  which  dis- 
tinguish the  dispensations  of  supreme  wisdom  from 
the  proceedings  of  human  judicature.  A  Being, 
Vv-hose  knowledge  penetrates  every  concealment ; 
from  the  operation  of  whose  will  no  art  or  flight  can 
escape  ;  and  in  whose  hands  punishment  is  sure  ; — 
such  a  being  may  conduct  the  moral  government  of 
his  creation,  in  the  best  and  wisest  manner,  by  pro- 
nouncing a  law,  that  every  crime  shall  finally  receive 
a  punishment  proportioned  to  the  guilt  which  it  con- 
tains, abstracted  from  any  foreign  consideration  what- 
ever :  and  may  testify  his  veracity  to  the  spectators 


Of  Crimes  and  Punishments,  S99 

of  his  judgments,  by  carrying  this  law  into  strict  eX« 
ec'.nion.  But  when  the  care  of  the  public  safety  is 
intrusted  to  men,  whose  authority  over  their  fellow 
creatures  is  limited  by  defects  of  power  and  knowl- 
edge ;  from  whose  utmost  vigilance  and  sagacity  the 
greatest  offenders  often  lie  hid  ;  whose  wisest  precau- 
tions and  speediest  pursuit  may  be  eluded  by  artifice 
or  concealment ; — a  different  necessity,  a  new  rule 
of  proceeding  results  from  the  very  imperfection  of 
their  faculties.  In  their  hands,  the  uncertainty  of 
punishment  must  be  compensated  by  the  severity. 
The  ease  with  which  crimes  are  committed  or  con- 
cealed, must  be  counteracted  by  additional  penalties 
and  increased  terrors.  The  very  end  for  which  hu- 
man government  is  established,  requires  that  its  reg- 
ulations be  adapted  to  the  suppression  of  crimes. 
This  end,  whatever  it  may  do  in  the  plans  of  infinite 
wisdom,  does  not,  in  the  designation  of  temporal 
penalties,  always  coincide  with  the  proportionate 
punishment  of  guilt. 

There  are  two  methods  of  administering  peiial 
justice. 

The  first  method  assigns  capital  punishments  to 
few  offences,  and  inflicts  it  invariably. 

The  second  method  assigns  capital  punishments  to 
many  kinds  of  offences,  but  inflicts  it  only  upon  a 
few  examples  of  each  kind. 

The  latter  of  which  two  methods  has  been  long 
ad©pted  in  this  country,  where,  of  those  who  receive 
sentence  of  death,  scarcely  one  in  ten  is  executed. 
And  the  preference  of  this  to  the  former  method 
seems  to  be  founded  in  the  consideration,  that  the 
selection  of  proper  objects  for  capital  punishment 
principally  depends  upon  circumstances,  which,  how- 
ever easy  to  perceive  in  each  particular  case  after  the 
crime  is  committed,  it  is  impossible  to  enumerate  or 
define  beforehand ;  or  to  ascertain,  however,  with 
that  exactness,  which  is  requisite  in  legal  descriptions. 
Hence,  although  it  be  necessary  to  fix,  by  precise  rules 
of  law,  the  boundary  on  one  side,  that  is,  the  limit 
to  which  the  punishment  may  be  extended,  and  also 
c  c  c 


400  Of  Crimes  and  Punishments, 

that  nothing  less  than  the  authority  of  the  whole  te* 
gislature  be  suffered  to  determine  that  boundary  and 
assign  these  rules  ;  yet  the  mitigation  of  punishment, 
the  exercise  of  lenity,  may,  without  danger,  be  in- 
trusted to  the  executive  magistrate^  whose  discretion 
will  operate  upon  those  numerous,  unforeseen,  mu- 
table and  indefinite  circumstances,  both  of  the  crime 
and  the  criminal,  which  constitute  or  qualify  the  ma- 
lignity of  each  offence.     Without  the  power  of  re- 
laxation lodged  in  a  living  authority,  either  some  of- 
fenders would  escape  capital  punishment^  whom  the 
public  safety  required  to  suffer ;  or  some  would  un- 
dergo this  punishment,  where  it  was  neither  deserv- 
ed nor  L'ecessary.     For  if  judgment  of  death  were 
reserved  for  one  or  two  species  of  crimes  only,  which 
would  probably  be  the  case,  if  that  judgment  was  in- 
tended  to  be   executed   without   exception,   crimes 
might  occur  of  the  most  dangerous  example,  and  ac- 
companied with   circumstances  of   heinous  aggrava- 
tion, which  did  not  fall  within  any  description  of  of- 
fences that  the  laws  had  made  capital,  and  which,  con- 
sequently, could  not  receive  the  punishment  their  own 
malignity  and  the  public  safety  required.     What  is 
worse,  it  would  be  known,  beforehand,   that   such 
crimes  might  be   committed  without  danger  to  the 
offender's  life.     On  the  other  hand,  if,  to  reach  these 
possible  cases,  the  whole  class  of  offences  to  which 
they  belong  be  subjected  to  pains  of  death,  and  no 
power  of  remitting  this  severity  remain  any  where, 
the  execution  of  the  laws  will  become  more  sanguina« 
ry  than  the  public  compassion  would  endure,  or  than 
is  necesi^ary  to  the  general  security. 

The  law  of ,  England  is  constructed  upon  a  differ- 
ent and  a  better  policy.  By  the  number  of  statutes 
creating  capifal  offences,  it  sweeps  into  the  net  every 
■  crime,  which  under  any  possible  circumstances  may 
merit  the  punishment  of  death  :  but,  when  the  exe- 
cuiion  of  this  sentence  comes  to  be  deliberated  upon,. 
,.  a  vSpiail  proportion  of  each  class  are  singled  out,  the 
ge.ne^l  cliaracter,  or  the  peculiar  aggravations  of 
whose  crimes,  render  them  fit  examples  of  public  jus- 
tice.    By  this  expedient,  few  actually  suffer  death. 


Of  Crimes  and  Punishments.  401 

whilst  the  dread  and  danger  of  it  hang  over  the  crimes 
of  many.  The  tenderness  of  the  law  cannot  be  ta- 
ken advantage  of.  The  life  of  the  subject  is  spared, 
as  far  as  the  necessity  of  restraint  and  intimidation 
permits  ;  yet  no  one  will  adventure  upon  the  com- 
mission of  any  enormous  crime,  from  a  knowledge 
that  the  laws  have  not  provided  for  its  punishment. 
The  wisdom  and  humanity  of  this  design  furni-h  a 
just  excuse  for  the  multiplicity  of  capital  offences, 
which  the  laws  of  England  are  accused  of  creating 
beyond  those  of  other  countries.  The  charge  of  cru- 
elty i<?  answered  by  observing,  that  these  laws  were 
never  meant  to  be  carried  into  indiscriminate  execu- 
tion ;  that  the  legislature,  when  it  establishes  its  last 
and  highest  sanctions,  trusts  to  the  benignity  of  the 
crown  to  relax  their  severity,  as  often  as  circumstan- 
ces appear  to  pahate  the  offence,  or  even  as  often  as 
those  circumstances  of  aggravation  are  wanting, 
which  rendered  this  rigorous  interposition  necessary. 
Upon  this  plan  it  is  enough  to  vindicate  the  lenity 
of  the  laws,  that  so}ne  instances  are  to  be  found  in  each 
class  of  capital  crimes,  which  require  the  restraint  of 
capital  punishment ;  and  that  this  restraint  could  not 
be  applied  without  subjecting  the  whole  class  to  the 
same  condemnation. 

There  is,  however,  one  species  of  crimes,  the  mak- 
ing of  which  capital  can  hardly,  I  think,  be  defended, 
even  upon  the  comprehensive  principle  just  now  sta- 
ted ;  I  mean  that  of  privately  stealing  from  the  per- 
son. As  every  degree  of  force  is  excluded  by  the 
description  of  the  crime,  it  will  be  difficult  to  assign 
an  example,  where  either  the  amount  or  circumstan- 
ces of  the  theft,  place  it  upon  a  level  with  those  dan- 
gerous attempts,  to  which  the  punishment  of  death 
should  be  confined.  It  will  be  still  more  difficult  to 
shew,  that,  without  gross  and  culpable  negligence  on 
the  part  of  the  sufferer,  such  examples  can  never  be- 
come so  frequent,  as  to  make  it  necessary,  to  con- 
stitute a  class  of  capital  offences,  of  very  wide  and 
large  extent. 

The  prerogative  of  pardon  is  properly  reserved  to 
the  chief  magistrate.     The  power  of  suspending  the 


402  Of  Crimes  and  Punishments. 

laws  is  a  privilege  of  too  high  a  nature  to  be  com- 
mitted to  many  hands,  or  to  those  of  any  inferior 
officer  in  the  state.  The  king  al  o  can  best  collect 
the  advice!  by  which  his  resolutions  should  be  govern- 
ed ;  and  i$  at  the  same  time  removed  at  the  greatest 
distance  from  the  influence  of  private  motives.  But 
let  this  power  be  deposited  where  it  will,  the  exercise 
of  it  ought  to  be  regarded,  not  as  a  favour  to  be 
yielded  to  solicitation,  granted  to  friendship,  or,  least 
of  all,  to  be  made  subservient  to  the  conciliating  or 
gratifying  of  political  attachments,  but  as  a  judicial 
act ;  as  a  deliberation,  to  be  conducted  with  th&  same 
character  of  impartiality,  with  the  same  exact  and 
diligent  attention  to  the  proper  merits  and  circum- 
stances of  the  case,  as  that  which  the  judge  upon  the 
bench  was  expected  to  maintain  and  show  in  the  trial 
of  the  prisoner's  guilt.  The  questions,  whether  the 
prisoner  be  guilty,  and  whether,  being  guilty,  he 
ought  to  be  executed,  are  equally  questions  of  public 
justice.  The  adjudication  of  the  latter  question  is  as 
much  a  function  of  magistracy  as  the  trial  of  the  for- 
mer. The  public  welfare  is  interested  in  both.  The 
conviction  of  an  offender  should  depend  upon  noth- 
ing but  the  fruit  of  his  guilt,  nor  the  execution  of 
the  sentence  upon  any  thing  beside  the  quality  and 
circumstances  of  his  crime.  It  is  necessary  to  the 
good  order  of  society,  and  to  the  reputation  and  au- 
thority of  government,  that  this  be  known  and  be- 
lieved to  be  the  case  in  each  part  of  the  proceeding. 
Which  reflections  show,  that  the  admission  of  extrin- 
sic or  oblique  considerations,  in  dispensing  the  power 
of  pardon,  is  a  crime  in  the  authors  and  advisers  of 
such  unmerited  partiality,  of  the  same  nature  with 
that  of  corruption  in  a  judge. 

Aggravations,  which  ought  to  guide  the  magistrate 
in  the  selection  of  objects  of  condign  punishment,  are 
principally  these  three — repetition,  cruelty,  combina- 
tion.— The  two  first,  it  is  manifest,  add  to  every  rea- 
son upon  which  the  justice  or  the  necessity  of  rigor- 
ous measures  can  be  founded  ;  and,  with  respect  to 
the  last  circumstance,  it  may  be  observed,  that  when 
thieves  and  robbers  are  once  collected  into  gangs, 


Of  Crimes  and  Punishments,  405 

their  violence  becomes  more  formidable,  the  confed- 
erates more  desperate,  and  the  difficulty  of  defending 
the  public  against  their  depredations  much  greater, 
than  in  the  case  of  soUtary  adventurers.  Which  sev- 
eral  comsiderations  compose  a  distinction,  that  is  prop- 
erly adverted  to,  in  deciding  upon  the  fate  of  con- 
victed malefactbrs. 

In  crimes,  however,  which  are  perpetrated  by  a 
multitude,  or  by  a  gang,  it  is  proper  to  separate,  in 
the  punishment,  the  ringleader  from  his  followers, 
the  principal  from  his  accomplices,  and  even  the  per- 
son who  struck  the  blow,  broke  the  lock,  or  first  en- 
tered the  house,  from  those  who  joined  him  in  the 
felony  ;  not  so  much  on  account  of  any  distinction 
in  the  guilt  of  the  offenders,  as  for  the  sake  of  casting 
an  obstacle  in  the  way  of  such  confederacies,  by  ren- 
dering it  difficult  for  the  confederates  to  settle  who 
shall  begin  the  attack,  or  to  find  a  man  amongst  their 
number  willing  to  expose  himself  to  greater  danger 
than  hi«;  associates.  This  is  another  instance  in  which 
the  punishment,  which  expediency  directs,  does  not 
pursue  the  exact  proportion  of  the  crime. 

Injuries  effected  by  terror  and  violence,  are  those 
which  it  is  the  first  and  chief  concern  of  legal  gov- 
ernment to  repress  ;  because,  their  extent  is  unlimit- 
ed ;  because,  no  private  precaution  can  protect  the 
subject  against  them  ;  because,  they  endanger  life  and 
safety,  as  well  as  property  ;  and  lastly,  because  they 
render  the  condition  of  society  wretched,  by  a  sense 
of  personal  insecurity.  These  reasons  do  not  apply 
to  frauds,  which  circumspection  may  prevent ;  which 
must  wait  for  opportunity  j  which  can  proceed  only 
to  certain  limits  ;  and  by  the  apprehension  of  which, 
although  the  business  of  life  be  incommoded,  life  it- 
self is  not  made  miserable.  The  appearance  of  this 
distinction  has  led  some  humane  writers  to  express  a 
wish,  that  capital  punishments  might  be  confined  to 
crimes  of  violence. 

In  estimating  the  comparative  malignancy  of  crimes 
of  violence,  regard  is  to  be  had,  not  only  to  the  prop- 
er and  intended  mischief  of  the  crime,  but  to  the 
fright  occasioned  by  the  attack,  to  the  general  alarm 


40 4  Of  Crimes  and  Punishments. 

excited  by  it  in  others,  and  to  the  consequences  which 
may  attend  future  attempts  of  the  same  kind.  Thus 
in  affixing  the  punishment  of  burglary,  or  of  break- 
ing into  dwelling-houses  by  night,  we  are  to  consider 
not  only  the  peril  to  which  the  most  valuable  proper- 
ty is  exposed  by  this  crime,  and  which  may  be  called 
the  direct  mischief  of  it,  but  the  danger  also  of  mur- 
der in  case  of  resistance,  or  for  the  sake  of  preventing 
discovery,  and  the  universal  dread  with  which  the 
silent  and  defenceless  hours  of  rest  and  sleep  must  be 
disturbed,  were  attempts  of  this  sort  to  become  fre- 
quent ;  and  which  dread  alone,  even  without  the 
mischief  which  is  the  object  of  it,  is  not  only  a  pub- 
lic evil,  but  almost  of  all  evils  the  most  insupportable. 
These  circumstances  place  a  difference  between  the 
breaking  into  a  dwelling-house  by  day,  and  by  night ; 
which  difference  obtains  in  the  punishment  of  the  of- 
fence by  the  law  of  Moses,  and  is  probably  to  be 
found  in  the  judicial  codes  of  most  countries,  from 
the  earliest  ages  to  the  present. 

Of  frauds,  or  of  injuries  which  are  effected  with- 
out force,  the-  most  noxious  kinds  are  forgeries, 
counterfeiting  or  diminishing  of  the  coin,  and  the 
stealing  of  letters  in  the  course  of  their  conveyance ; 
inasmuch  as  these  practices  tend  to  deprive  the  pub- 
lic of  accommodations,  which  not  only  improve  the 
conveniences  of  social  life,  but  are  essential  to  the 
prosperity,  and  even  the  existence  of  commerce. 
Of  these  crimes  it  may  be  said,  that  although  they 
seem  to  affect  property  alone,  the  mischief  of  their 
operation  does  not  terminate  there.  For  let  it  be 
supposed  that  the  remissness  or  lenity  of  the  laws 
should,  in  any  country,  suffer  offences  of  this  sort  to 
grow  into  such  a  frequency,  as  to  render  the  use  of 
money,  the  circulation  of  bills,  or  the  public  convey- 
ance of  letters,  no  longer  safe  or  practicable  ;  what 
would  follow,  but  that  every  species  of  trade  and  of 
activity  must  decline  under  these  discouragements  ; 
the  sources  of  subsistence  fail,  by  which  the  inhabit- 
ants of  the  country  are  supported  ;  the  country  it- 
self, where  the  intercourse  of  civil  life  was  so  endan- 
gered and  defective,  be  deserted  j  and  that,  beside 


Of  Crimes  and  PunishmenU*  405 

the  distress  and  poverty,  which  the  loss  and  employ- 
ment would  produce  to  the  industrious  and  valua- 
ble part  of  the  existing  community,  a  rapid  depopu- 
lation must  take  place,  each  generation  becoming  less 
numerous  than  the  last,  till  solitude  and  barren- 
ness overspread  the  land  ;  until  a  desolation  similar 
to  what  obtains  in  many  countries  of  Asia,  which 
were  once  the  most  civilized  and  frequented  parts  of 
the  world,  succeed  in  the  place  of  crowded  cities, 
of  cultivated  fields,  of  happy  and  well-peopled  re- 
gions ?  When  we  carry  forwards,  therefore,  our 
views  to  the  more  distant,  but  not  less  certain  con- 
sequences of  these  crimes,  we  perceive  that,  though 
no  Hving  creature  be  destroyed  by  them,  yet  human 
life  is  diminished ;  that  an  offence,  the  particular 
consequence  of  which  deprives  only  an  individual  of 
a  small  portion  of  his  property,  and  which  even  in 
its  general  tendency  seems  to  do  nothing  more  than 
obstruct  the  enjoyment  of  certain  public  convenien- 
ces, may  nevertheless,  by  its  ultimate  effects,  con- 
clude in  the  laying  waste  of  human  existence.  This 
observation  will  enable  those  who  regard  the  divine 
rule  of  "  Hfe  for  life,  and  blood  for  blood,"  as  the 
only  authorized  and  justifiable  measure  of  capital 
punishment,  to  perceive,  with  respect  to  the  effects 
and  quality  of  the  actions,  a  greater  resemblance  than 
they  suppose  to  exist,  between  certain  atrocious  frauds, 
and  those  crimes  which  attack  personal  safety. 

In  the  case  of  forgeries  their  appears  a  substantia! 
difference  between  the  forging  of  bills  of  exchange, 
or  of  securities  which  are  circulated,  and  of  which 
the  circulation  and  currency  are  found  to  serve  and 
facilitate  valuable  purposes  of  commerce,  and  the 
forging  of  bonds,  leases,  mortgages,  or  of  instru- 
ments which  are  not  commonly  transferred  from 
one  hand  to  another  ;  because,  in  the  former  case 
credit  is  necessarily  given  to  the  signature,  and,  with- 
out that  credit,  the  negociation  of  such  property  could 
not  be  carried  on,  nor  the  public  utility  sought  from 
it  be  attained  ;  in  the  other  case,  all  possibility  of 
deceit  might  be  precluded,  by  a*  direct  communica- 
tion between  the  parties,  or  by  due  care  in  the  choice'* 


406  Of  Crimes  and  Punishments. 

of  their  agents,  with  little  interruption  to  business, 
and  without  destroying,  or  much  encumbering,  the 
uses  for  which  these  instruments  are  calculated.  This 
distinction,  I  apprehend  to  be  not  only  real,  but  pre- 
cise enough  to  afford  a  line  of  division  between  for- 
geries, which,  as  the  law  now  stands,  are  almost  uni- 
versally capital,  and  punished  with  undistinguishing 
severity. 

Perjury  is  another  crime  of  the  same  class  and 
magnitude.  And,  when  we  consider  what  reliance 
is  necessarily  placed  upon  oaths  ;  that  all  judicial  de- 
cisions proceed  from  testimony  ;  that  consequently 
there  is  not  a  right,  that  a  man  possesses,  of  which 
false  witnesses  may  not  deprive  him  ;  that  reputa- 
tion, property,  and  life  itself  lie  open  to  the  attempts 
of  perjury  ;  that  it  may  often  be  committed  with^ 
out  a  possibility  of  contradiction  or  discovery  ;  that 
the  success  and  prevalency  of  this  vice  tend  to  in- 
troduce the  most  grievous  and  fatal  injustice  into  the 
administration  of  human  affairs,  or  such  a  distrust  of 
testimony  as  must  create  universal  embarrassment 
and  confusion  :  when  we  reflect  upon  these  mis- 
chiefs, we  shall  be  brought,  probably,  to  agree  with 
the  opinion  of  those,  who  contend  that  perjury,  in 
its  punishment,  especially  that  which  is  attempted  in 
solemn  evidence,  and  in  the  face  of  a  court  of  jus- 
tice, should  be  placed  upon  a  level  with  the  most 
flagitious  frauds. 

The  obtaining  of  money  by  secret  threats,  wheth- 
er we  regard  the  difficulty  with  which  the  crime  is 
traced  out,  the  odious  imputations  to  which  it  may 
lead,  or  the  profligate  conspiracies  that  are  sometimes 
formed  to  carry  it  into  execution,  deserves  to  be 
reckoned  amongst  the  worst  species  of  robbery. 

The  frequency  of  capital  executions  in  this  coun- 
try, owes  its  necessity  to  three  causes — much  liberty, 
great  cities,  and  the  want  of  a  punishment,  short  of 
death,  possessing  a  sufficient  degree  of  terror.  And 
if  the  taking  away  the  life  of  malefactors  be  more 
rare  in  other  coui^tries  than  in  ours,  the  reason  will 
be  found  in  some  difference  in  these  articles.  The 
liberties  of  a  free  people,  and  still  more  the  jealousy 


Of  Crimes  and  Punishment:.  407 

^ith  which  these  liberties  are  watched,  and  by  w  hich 
they  are  preserved,  permit  not  those  precautions  and 
restraints,  that  inspection,  scrutiny,  and  control, 
which  are  exercised  with  bucce.ss  in  arbitrary  gov" 
ernments.  For  example,  neither  the  spirit  of  the 
laws,  nor  of  the  people,  will  suffer  the  detention  or 
confinement  of  suspected  persons,  without  proofs  of 
their  guilt,  which  it  is  often  impossible  to  obtain  5 
nor  will  they  allow  that  masters  of  families  be  oblig- 
ed to  record  and  render  up  a  description  of  the  stran- 
gers or  inmates  whom  they  entertain  ;  nor  that  an 
account  be  demanded,  at  the  pleasure  of  the  magis- 
trate, of  each  man's  time,  employment  and  means  of 
subsistence  ;  nor  securities  to  be  required  when  these 
accounts  appear  unsatisfactory  or  dubious  ;  nor  men 
to  be  apprehended  upon  the  mere  suggestion  of  idle« 
ness  or  vagrancy  ;  nor  to  be  confined  to  certain  dis- 
tricts ;  nor  the  inhabitants  of  each  district  to  be 
made  responsible  for  one  another's  behiaviour  ;  nor 
passports  to  be  exacted  from  all  persons  entering  or 
leaving  the  kingdom  :  least  of  all  will  they  tolerate 
the  appearance  of  an  armed  force,  or  of  military 
law;  or  suffer  the  streets  and  public  i"\3ads  to  be 
guarded  and  patrolled  by  soldiers;  01,  lastly,  Intrust 
the  police  with  such  discretionary  powers,  as  may 
make  sure  of  the  guilty,  however  they  involve  the 
innocent.  These  expedients,  although  arbitrary  and 
rigorous,  are  many  of  them  effectual ;  and  in  pro- 
portion as  they  render  the  commission  or  conceal- 
ment of  crimi^s  more  difGcult,  they  subtract  from  the 
necessity  of  severe  punishment.  Great  ciiies  multiply 
crimes  by  presenting  easier  opportunities  and  more 
incentives  to  iibertinismj  which  in  low  life  is  com- 
monly the  introductory  stage  to  other  enormities ; 
by  collecting  thieves  and  robbers  into  the  same  neigh- 
bourhood, which  enables  them  to  form  communica- 
tions and  confederacies,  that  increase  their  art  and 
coura^jje,  as  well  as  strength  and  wickedness  ;  but 
principally  by  the  refuge  they  afford  to  villany,  in 
the  means  of  concealment,  and  of  subsisting  in  secre- 
cy, which  crowded  towns  supply  to  men  of  every  de- 


408  Of  Crimes  and  PunishmeniS'. 

scriptlon.  These  temptations  and  facilities  can  only 
be  counteracted  by  adding  to  the  number  of  capital 
punishments.  But  a  third  cause,  which  increases  the 
frequency  of  capital  executions  in  England,  is  a  de- 
fect of  the  laws  in  not  being  provided  with  any  oth- 
er ;:>umshment  than  that  of  death,  sufficiently  terrible 
to  keep  offenders  in  awe.  Transportation,  which  is 
the  sentence  second  in  the  order  of  severity,  appears 
to  me  to  answer  the  purpose  of  example  very  imper- 
fectly ;  not  only  because  exile  is  in  reality  a  sHght 
punishment  to  those,  who  have  neither  property,  nor 
friends,  nor  reputation,  nor  regular  means  of  sub- 
sistence at  home;  and  because  their  situation  becomes 
little  worse  by  their  crime,  than  it  was  before  they 
committed  it  :  but  because  the  punishment,  what- 
ever it  be,  is  unobserved  and  unknown.  A  trans- 
ported convict  may  suffer  under  his  sentence,  but  his 
sufferings  are  removed  from  the  view  of  his  coun- 
trymen :  his  misery  is  unseen  ;  his  condition  strikes 
no  terror  into  the  minds  of  tho^e,  for  whose  warn- 
ing and  admonition  it  was  intended.  This  chasm  in 
the  scale  of  puni.shment  produces  also  two  farther 
imperfections  in  the  administration  of  penal  justice : 
the  first  is,  that  the  same  punishment  is  extended  to 
crimes  of  very  different  character  and  malignancy ; 
the  second,  that  punishments  separated  by  a  great  in- 
terval, are  assigned  to  crimes  hardly  distinguishable 
in  their  guilt  and  mischief. 

The  end  of  punishment  is  two-fold,  amendment  and 
example.  In  the  first  o^ ihe^Q,  xhe  reformation  of  crim- 
inals, little  has  ever  been  effected,  and  little  I  fear  is 
practicable.  From  every  species  of  punishment  that 
has  hitherto  been  devised,  from  imprisonment  and 
exile,  from  pain  and  infamy,  malefactors  return  more 
hardened  in  their  crimes  and  more  instructed.  If 
there  be  any  thing  that  shakes  the  soul  cf  a  confirm- 
ed villain,  it  is  the  expectation  of  approaching  death. 
The  horrors  of  this  situation  may  cause  such  a  xvrench 
in  the  mental  organs,  as  to  give  them  a  holding  turn  : 
and  I  think  it  probable,  that  many  of  those  who  are 
executed,  would,  if  they  were  delivered  at  the  point 
of  death,  retain  such  a   remembrance  of  their  sensa- 


Of  Crimes  and  Vunishments.  409 

tions,  as  might  preserve  them,  unless  urged  by  ex- 
treme want,  from  relapsing  into  their  former  crimes. 
But  this  is  an  experiment  that  from  its  nalui'e  can- 
Hot  be  repeated  often. 

Of  the  reforming  punishments  which  have  not  yet 
been  tried,  none  promises  so  much  success  as  that  of 
solitary  imprisonment,  or  the  confinement  of  crimi- 
nals in  separate  apartments.  This  improvement 
augments  the  terror  of  the  punishment ;  secludes 
the  criminal  from  the  society  of  his  fellow  prisoners, 
in  which  society  the  worse  are  sure  to  corrupt  the 
better  ;  weans  him  from  the  knowledge  of  his  com- 
panions, and  from  the  love  of  that  turbulent,  preca- 
rious life,  in  which  his  vices  had  engaged  him  ;  is 
calculated  to  raise  up  in  him  reflections  on  the  folly 
of  his  choice,  and  to  dispose  his  mind  to  such  bitter 
and  continued  penitence,  as  may  produce  a  lasting  al- 
teration in  the  principles  of  his  conduct. 

As  aversion  to  labour  is  the  cause,  from  which  half 
of  the  vices'of  low  life  deduce  their  origin  and  con- 
tinuance, punishments  ought   to  be  contrived   with  a 
view  to  the  conquering  of  this  disposition.     Two  op- 
posite expedients   have  been    recommended  for  this 
purpose  ;  the  one  solitary  confinement.^  with  hard  la- 
bour ;  the  other    solitary  confinement,  with  nothing 
to  do.     Both  expedients  seek  the  same   end — to  re- 
concile the   idle  to   a  life  of  industry.       The  former 
hopes  to  effect  this  by  making   labour  habitual  ;  the 
latter   by   making  idleness    insupportable :    and  the 
preference  of  one  method  to  the  other  depends  upon, 
the  question,  whether  a  vnan  is  more  likely  to  betake 
himself,  of  his  own  accord,  to  work,  who  has  been, 
accustomed  to  employment,  or  who  has  been  distress- 
ed by  the  want  of  it  ?  When  jails  are  once  provided 
for  the  separate  confinement  of  prisoners,  which  both 
proposals  require,  the  choice  between  them  may  soon 
be  determined  by  experience.     If  labour  be  exacted, 
I  would  leave  the  whole,  or  a  portion  of  the  earnings 
to  the  prisoner's  use,  and  I  would  debar  him  from 
any  other  provision  or  supply ;  that  his  subsisteuce, 
however  coarse  or  penurious,  may  be  proportioned  to 
bis  diligence,  and  that  he  may  taste  the  advantage  qf 


410  Of  Crimes  and  Fumshments, 

industry  together  with  the  toil.  I  would  go  farther  , 
I  would  meaNure  the  confinement,  not  by  the  dura- 
tion of  time,  but  by  quantity  of  work,  in  order  both 
to  excite  industry,  and  to  render  it  more  voluntary. 
But  the  principal  difficulty  remains  still ;  namely, 
how  to  dispose  of  crirriinals  after  their  enlargement. 
By  a  rule  of  life,  which  is  perhaps  too  invariably  and 
indi>criminately  adhered  to,  no  one  will  receive  a  man 
or  a  woman  out  of  jail,  into  any  service  or  employ- 
ment whatever.  This  is  the  common  misfortune  of 
public  punishments,  that  they  preclude  the  offender 
from  all  honest  means  of  future  support.*  It  seems 
incumbent  upon  the  state  to  secure  a  maintenance  to 
those  who  are  willing  to  work  for  it ;  and  yet  it  is 
absolurely  necessary  to  divide  criminals  as  far  asunder 
fram  one  another  as  possible.  Whether  male  prison- 
ers might  not,  after  the  term  of  their  confinement 
was  e^jpired,  be  distributed  in  the  country,  detained 
within  certain  limits,  and  employed  upon  the  public 
roads  ;  and  females  be  remitted  to  the  overseers  of 
country  parishes,  to  be  there  furnished  with  dwell- 
ings, and  with  the  materials  and  implements  of  occu- 
pation ; — whether  by  the.e,  or  by  what  other  meth- 
ods, it  may  be  possible  to  effect  the  two  purposes  of 
employment  and  dispersion^  well  merits  the  attention  of 
all  who  are  anxious  to  perfect  the  internal  regulation 
of  their  country. 

Torture  is  applied,  either  to  obtain  confessions  of 
guilt,  or  to  exasperate  or  prolong  the  pains  of  death. 
No  bodily  punishment,  however  excruciating  or  long 
continued,  receives  the  name  of  torture,  unless  it  be 
designed  to  kill  the  criminal  by  a  more  lingering 
death,  or  to  extort  from  him  the  discovery  of  some 
secret,  which  is  supposed  to  lie  concealed  in  his  breast. 
The  question  by  torture  appears  to  be  equivocal  in  its 
effects  ;  for,  since  extremity  of  pain,  and  not  any  con- 
sciousness of  rem.orse  in  the  mind,  produces  those  ef. 
fects,  an  innocent  man  may  sink  under  the  torment, 
as   well  as  he  who  is  guilty.     The  latter  has  as  much 

*  Until  this  inconvenience  be  remedied,  small  offences  had,  perhaps,  bet- 
ter go  unpunished ;  I  do  not  mean  that  the  laws  should  exempt  them  from 
punishment,  but  that  private  persons  should  be  tender  in  prosecuting  thenj. 


Of  Cr hues  and  Punishments,  411 

to  fear  from  yielding  as  the  former.  The  instant  and 
almost  irresistible  desire  of  relief  may  draw  from  one 
sufferer  false  accusations  of  himself  or  others,  as  it 
may  sometimes  extract  the  truth  out  of  another. 
This  ambiguity  renders  the  use  of  torture,  as  a  means 
of  procuring  information  in  criminal  proceedings,  li- 
able to  the  risk  of  grievous  and  irreparable  injustice. 
For  which  reason,  though  recommended  by  artcient 
and  general  example,  it  has  been  properly  exploded 
from  the  mild  and  cautious  system  of  penal  jurispru- 
dence estabhshed  in  this  country. 

Barbarous  spectacles  of  human  agony  are  justly 
found  fault   with,  as  tending  to  harden  and  deprave 
the  public  feelings,  and    to   destroy   that   sympathy 
with  which  the  sufferings   of  our  fellow    creatures 
ought  always  to  be  seen  ;  or,  if  no  effect  of  this  kind 
follow  from  them,  they  counteract  in  some  measure 
their  own  design,  by  sinking  men's  abhorrence  of  the 
crime  in  their  commiseration  of  the  criminal.     But  if 
a  mode  of  execution  could  be  devised,  which  v;ould 
augment  the   horror  of  the  punishment,  without  of- 
fending or  impairing  the  public  sensibility  by  cruel  or 
unseemly  exhibitions  of  death,  it  might  add  something 
to  the  efiicacy  of  the  example  ;  and  by  being  reserved 
for  a  few  atrocious  crimes,  might  also  enlarge  the  scale 
of  punishment;  an  addition  to  which  seems  wanting  ; 
for,  as  the  matter  remains  at  present,  you  hang  a  mal- 
efactor for  a  simple  robbery,  and  can  do  no  more  to 
the  villian  who  has   poisoned  his  father.     Somewhat 
of  the  sort  we  have  been  describing  was  the  proposal 
not  long  since  suggested,  of  casting  murderers  into  a 
den  of  wild  beasts,   where  they    would  perish  in  a 
manner  dreadful  to  the   imagination,  yet  concealed 
from  the  view. 

Infamous  punishments  are  mismanaged  in  this  coun- 
try, with  respect  both  to  the  crimes  and  the  crimi- 
nals. In  th^  first  place,  they  ought  to  be  confined  to 
offences,  whjch  are  held  in  undisputed  and  universal 
detestation.  To  condemn  to  the  pillory  the  author 
or  editor  of  a  libel  against  the  state,  who  has  render- 
ed himself  the  favourite  of  a  party,  if  not  of  the  peo- 
ple, by  the  very  act  for  which  he  stands  there,  is  to 


412  Of  Crimes  and  Ptmisbinents. 

gratify  the  offender,  and  to  expose  the  laws  to  mock  • 
ery  and  insult.  In  the  second  place,  the  delinquents 
who  receive  this  sentence  are,  for  the  most  part,  such 
as  have  long  ceased  either  to  value  reputation,  or  t® 
fear  shame  ;  of  whose  happiness,  and  of  whose  enjoy- 
ments, character  makes  no  part.  Thus  the  low  min- 
istersof  libertinism,  the  keepers  of  bawdy  or  disorderly 
houses,  are  threatened  in  vain  with  a  punishment  that 
affects  a  sense  which  they  have  not;  thatapphes  solely 
to  the  imagination,  to  the  virtue  anjd  the  pride  of  hu- 
man nature.  The  pillory,  or  any  other  infamous  dis- 
tinction, might  be  employed  rightly,  a:nd  with  effect, 
in  the  punishment  of  some  offences  of  higher  life,  as 
ti  frauds  and  peculation  in  office  ;  of  collusions  and 
connivances,  by  which  the  public  treasury  is  defraud- 
ed ;  of  breaches  of  trust ;  of  perjury,  and  suborna- 
tion of  perjury  ;  of  the  clandestine  and  forbidden  sale 
of  places  ;  of  flagrant  abuses  of  authority,  or  neglect 
of  duty  ;  and,  lastly,  of  corruption  in  the  exercise  of 
confidental  or  judicial  offices.  In  all  which,  the  more 
elevated  was  the  station  of  the  criminal,  the  more  sig- 
nal and  conspicuous  would  be  the  triumph  of  justice. 
The  certainty  of  punishment  is  of  more  consequence 
than  the  severity.  Criminals  do  not  so  much  flatter 
themselves  with  the  lenity  of  the  sentence,  as  with 
the  hope  of  e:;caping.  They  are  not  so  apt  to  com- 
pare what  they  gain  by  the  crime,  with  what  they 
may  suffer  from  the  punishment,  as  to  encourage 
themselves  with  the  chance  of  concealment  or  flight. 
For  which  reason  a  vigilant  magistracy,  an  accurate 
police,  a  proper  distribution  of  force  and  intelligence, 
together  with  due  rewards  for  the  discovery  and  ap- 
prehension of  malefactors,  and  an  undeviating  im- 
partiality in  carrying  the  laws  into  execution,  con- 
tribute more  to  the  restraint  and  suppression  of 
crimes,  than  any  violent  exacerbations  of  punishment. 
And  for  the  same  reason,  of  all  contrivances  directed 
to  this  end,  those  perhaps  are  most  effectual  which 
^facilitate  the  conviction  of  criminals.  The  offence  of 
counterfeiting  the  coin  could  not  be  checked  by  all 
the  terrors  and  the  utmost  severity  of  the  law,  whilst 
the  act  of  coining  was  necessary  to  be  established  by 


OftlrimesandFunishmerits.  4^13 

specHfic  proof.  The  statute  which  made  the  possession 
of  the  implements  of  coining  capital,  that  is,  which 
constituted  that  possession  complete  evidence  of  the 
offender's  guilt,  was  the  first  thing  that  gave  force 
and  efficacy  to  the  dei\u-*":iations  of  law  upon  this 
subject.  The  statute  of  James  the  First,  relative  to 
the  murder  of  bastard  children,  which  ordains  that 
the  concealment  of  the  birth  should  be  deemed  incon- 
testable proof  of  the  charge,  though  a  harsh  l,aw,  was, 
ifi  like  manner  with  the  former,  v»'ell  calculated  to 
put  a  stop  to  the  crime. 

It  is  upon  the  principle  of  this  observation,  that  I 
apprehend  much  harm  to  have  been  done  to  the 
community,  by  the  overstrained  scrupulousness,  or 
weak  timidity  of  juries,  which  demands  often  such 
proof  of  a  prisoner's  guilt,  as  the  nature  and  secrecy 
of  his  crime  scarce  possibly  admit  of  ;  and  which 
holds  it  the  part  of  a  safe  conscience  not  to  condemn 
any  man,  whilst  there  exists  the  minutest  possibility 
of  his  innocence.  Any  story  they  may  happen  to 
have  heard  or  read,  whether  real  or  feigned,  in  which 
courts  of  justice  have  been  misled  by  presumptions 
of  guilt,  is  enough,  in  their  minds,  to  found  an  ac- 
quittal upon,  where  positive  proof  is  wanting.  I 
do  not  mean  that  juries  should  indulge  conjectures^ 
should  magnify  suspicions  into  proofs,  or  even  that 
they  should  weigh  probabilities  in  gold  scales  ;  but 
when  the  preponderation  of  evidence  is  so  manifest, 
as  to  persuade  every  private  understanding  of  the 
prisoner's  guilt ;  when  it  furnishes  that  degree  of 
credibility,  upon  which  men  decide  and  act  in  all 
other  doubts,  and  which  experience  hath  shown  thai 
they  may  decide  and  act  upon  with  sufficient  safety : 
to  reject  such  proof,  from  an  insinuation  of  uncer- 
tainty that  belongs  to  all  human  affairs,  and  from  a 
general  dread  lesttlie  charge  of  innocent  blood  should 
lie  at  tlieir  doors,  is  a  conduct  which,  however  natural 
to  a  mind  studious  to  its  own  quiet,  is  authorized 
by  no  considerations  of  rectitude  or  utility.  It  coun- 
teracts  the  care,  and  damps  the  activity  of  govei-n^ 
ment :  it  holds  out  public  encouragement  to  villany. 
by  confessing  the  impossibility  of  brittging  vJi!aTO«^  to 


414  Of  Crimes  and  Punishments, 

justice  ;  and  that  species  of  encouragement,  which, 
as  hath  been  just  now  observed,  the  minds  of  such 
men  are  most  apt  to  entertain  and  dwell  upon. 

There  are  two  popular  maxims,  which  seem  to 
have  a  considerable  infiuf^nce  in  producing  the  inju- 
dicious acquittals  of  whica  we  complain.  One  is, 
*'  that  circumstantial  evidence  falls  short  of  positive 
•proof."  This  assertion,  in  the  unqualified  sense  in 
which  it  is  applied,  is  not  true.  A  concurrence  of 
well-authenticated  circumstances  composes  a  stronger 
ground  of  assurance  than  positive  testimony,  uncon- 
firmed by  circumstances,  usually  affords.  Circum- 
stances cannot  lie.  The  conclusion  also  which  re- 
sults from  them,  though  deduced  by  only  probable 
inference,  is  commonly  more  to  be  relied  upon  than 
the  veracity  of  an  unsupported  solitary  witness^ 
The  danger  of  being  deceived  is  less,  the  actual  in- 
stances of  deception  are  fewer,  in  the  one  case  than, 
the  other.  What  is  called  positive  proof  in  criminal 
matters,  as  where  a  man  swears  to  the  person  of  the 
prisoner,  and  that  he  actually  saw  him  commit  the 
crime  with  which  he  is  charged,  may  be  founded  in 
the  mi>take  or  perjury  of  a  single  witness.  Such 
mistakes,  and  such  perjuries  are  not  without  many 
examples.  Whereas,  to  impose  upon  a  court  of  jus- 
tice, a  chain  of  circwnsiantial  evidence  in  support  of  a 
fabricated  accusation,  requires  such  a  number  of 
false  witnesses  as  seldom  meet  together  ;  an  union 
also  of  skill  and  wickedness  which  is  still  more  rare  ^ 
and  after  all,  this  species  of  proof  lies  much  more 
open  to  discussion,  and  is  more  likely,  if  false,  to  be 
contradicted,  or  to  betray  itself  by  some  unforeseen 
i'nconsistency,  than  that  direct  proof,  W'hich,  bv^ing 
confined  within  tl.e  knowledge  of  a  single  person, 
which  appealing  to,  or  standing  connected  with,  no 
external  or  collateral  circumstances,  is  incapable,  by 
its  very  simplicity,  of  being  confronted  with  oppo- 
site probabilities. 

The  other  maxim,  which  deserves  a  similar  ex- 
amination, is  this,  "  that  it  is  better  that  ten  guilty 
persons  e^-cape,  than  that  one  innocent  man  should 
.suffer."     If  by  saying  it  is  fo/iVr,  be  meant  that  it  is 


Of  Religous  'Establishments,  415 

more  for  the  public  advantage,  the  proposition,  I 
think,  cannot  be  maintained.  The  security  of  civil 
life,  which  is  essential  to  the  value  and  the  enjoy- 
ment of  every  blessing  it  contains,  and  the  interrup- 
tion of  which  is  followed  by  universal  misery  and  con- 
fusion, is  protected  chiefly  by  the  dread  of  puni  h- 
ment.  The  misfortune  of  an  individual,  for  such  may 
the  sufferings,  or  even  the  death  of  an  innocent  person 
be  called,  when  they  are  occasioned  by  no  evil  inten- 
tion, cannot  be  placed  in  competition  with  this  object. 
I  do  not  contend  that  the  life  or  safety  of  the  meanest 
subject  ought,  in  any  case,  to  be  knowingly  sacrificed. 
No  principle  of  judicature,  no  end  of  punishment  can 
ever  require  that.  But  when  certain  rules  of  adjudi- 
cation must  be  pursued,  when  certain  degrees  of 
credibility  must  be  accepted,  In  order  to  reach  the 
crimes  with  which  the  public  are  infested  ;  courts  of 
justice  should  not  be  deterred  from  the  application  of 
these  rules  by  every  suspicion  of  daiiger,  or  by  the 
mere  possibility  of  confounding  the  innocent  with  the 
guilty.  They  ought  rather  to  reflect,  that  he  who 
falls  by  a  mistaken  sentence,  may  be  considered  as 
falling  for  his  country  :  whilst  he  suffers  under  the 
operation  of  those  rules,  by  the  general  effect  and 
tendency  of  which  the  welfare  of  the  community  is 
maintained  and  upheld. 


CHAPTER  X. 

OF  RELIGIOUS  ESTABLISHMENTS,  AND  OF 
TOLERATION. 

««  A  RELIGIOUS  establishment  is  no  part  of 
Christianity,  It  is  only  the  means  of  inculcating  it." 
Am9ugst  the  Jews,  the  rights  and  offices,  the  order, 
family,  and  saccession  of  the  priesthood  were  marked 
out  by  the  authority  which  declared  the  law  itself. 
These,  therefore,  were  parts  of  the  Jewish  religion,  as 

£  £  £ 


y 


416  Of  Religious  Establishmeni^^, 

well  as  the  means  of  transmitting  it.  Not  so  witi; 
the  new  institution.  It  cannot  be  proved  that  any 
form  of  church  government  was  laid  down  in  the 
Christian,  as  it  had  been  in  the  Jewish  scriptureSj 
with  a  view  of  fixing  a  constitution  for  succeeding 
ages  ;  and  which  constitution,  consequently,  the  dis- 
ciples of  Christianity  would,  every  where,  and  at  all 
times,  by  the  very  law  of  their  religion,  be  obliged 
to  adopt.  Certainly  no  command  for  this  purpose 
was  dehvered  by  Christ  himself  ;  and  if  it  be  .shown 
that  the  apostles  ordained  bishops  and  presbyters 
amongst  their  first  converts,  it  must  be  remembered 
that  deacons  also  and  deaconesses  were  appointed  by 
them,  with  functions  very  dissimilar  to  any  which  ob- 
tain  in  the  church  at  present.  The  truth  seems  to 
have  been,  that  such  offices  were  at  first  erected  in  the 
Christian  church,  as  the  good  order,  the  instruction, 
and  the  exigencies  of  the  society  at  that  time  requir- 
ed, without  any  intention,  at  least,  without  any  de- 
clared design,  of  regulating  the  appointment,  author- 
ity, or  the  distinction  of  Christian  ministers  under  fu- 
ture circumstances.  This  reserve,  if  we  may  so  call 
it,  in  the  Christian  Legislator,  is  sufficiently  account- 
ed for  by  two  considerations  :  First,  that  no  precise 
constitution  could  be  framed,  which  would  suit  with 
the  condition  of  Christianity  in  its  primitive  state, 
and  with,  that  which  it  was  to  assume  when  it  should 
be  advanced  into  a  national  religion.  Secondly,  that 
a  particular  designation  of  office  or  authority  amongst 
the  ministers  of  the  new  religion  might  have  so  in- 
terfered with  the  arrangements  of  civil  policy,  as  to 
have  formed,  in  vsome  countries,  a  considerable  obsta- 
cle to  the  progress  and  reception  of  the  religion  itself* 
The  authority,  therefore,  of  a  church  establishment 
is  founded  in  its  utility  :  and  whenever,  upon  this 
principle,  we  deliberate  concerning  the  form,  propri- 
ety, or  comparative  excellency  of  difl'erent  establi  h- 
ments,  the  single  view,  under  which  we  ought  to 
consider  any  of  them,  is  that  of  "  a  scheme  of  in- 
struction ;'*  the  single  end  we  ought  to  propose  by 
them  is,  "  the  preserviuion  and  communication  of 
religious  knowledge."   Every  other  idea,  and  every 


mid  of  Toleration,  417 

jiher  end  that  hath  been  mixed  with  this,  as  the 
making  of  the  church  an  engine,  or  even  an  ally,  of 
?he  state  ;  converting  it  into  the  means  of  strength- 
ening or  diffusing  influence  ;  or  regarding  it  as  a  sup- 
port of  regal  in  opposition  to  popular  forms  of  gov- 
ernment, have  served  only  to  debase  the  institution, 
and  to  introduce  into  it  numerous  corruptions  and 
abuses. 

The  notion  of  a  religious  establishment  compre- 
hends three  things ;  a  clergy,  or  an  order  of  men 
secluded  from  other  professions,  to  attend  upon  the 
offices  of  religion  ;  a  legal  provision  for  the  mainten- 
ance of  the  clergy  ;  and  the  confining  of  that  provi- 
sion to  the  teachers  of  a  particular  .vect  of  Christianity. 
If  any  one  of  these  three  things  be  wanting  ;  if  there 
be  no  clergy,  as  amongst  the  Quakers ;  or,  if  the 
clergy  have  no  other  provision  than  what  they  derive 
from  the  voluntary  contribution  of  their  hearers  ;  or, 
if  the  provision  which  the  laws  assign  to  the  support 
of  religion  be  extended  to  various  sects  and  denom-' 
inations  of  Christians,  there  exists  no  national  re- 
ligion, or  established  church,  according  to  the  sense 
which  these  terms  are  usually  made  to  convey.  He, 
therefore,  who  would  defend  ecclesiastical  establish- 
ments, must  show  the  separate  utility  of  these  three 
essenticd  parts  of  their  constitution. 

1.  The  question  first  in  order  upon  the  subject, 
as  well  as  the  most  fundamental  in  its  importance, 
is,  whether  the  knowledge  and  profession  of  Chris- 
lianity  can  be  maintained  in  a  country,  without  a  class 
of  men  set  apart  by  public  authority  to  the  study  and 
teaching  of  religion,  and  to  the  conducting  of  pub- 
lic v>'orship ;  and  for  these  purposes  secluded  from 
other  employments.  I  add  this  la't  circumstance, 
becau  e  in  it  consists,  as  I  take  it,  the  substance  of  the 
controversy.  Now  it  must  be  remembered  that 
Christianity  is  an  historical  religion,  founded  in  facts 
which  are  related  to  have  passed,  upon  discourses 
which  were  held,  and  letters  which  were  written,  in 
a  remote  age  and  distant  country  of  the  world,  as 
well  as  under  a  state  of  life  and  manners,  and  during 
the  prevalency  of  opinions,  customs  and  institutions. 


418  Of  Religious  Establishments^ 

very  unlike  any  which  are  found  amongst  mankind 
at  prevsent.  Moreover,  this  religion,  having  been  first 
published  in  the  country  of  Judea,  and  being  built 
upon  the  mere  ancient  religion  of  the  Jews,  is  neces- 
sarily and  intimately  connected  with  the  sacred  wri- 
tings, with  the  history  and  polity  of  that  singular 
people :  to  which  must  be  added,  that  the  records  ,of 
both  revelations  are  preserved  in  languages,  which 
have  long  ceased  to  be  spoken  in  any  part  of  the  world. 
Books  which  come  down  to  us  from  times  so  remote, 
and  under  so  many  causes  of  unavoidable  obscurity, 
cannot,  it  is  evident,  be  understood  without  study 
and  preparation.  The  languages  must  be  learnt.  The 
various  writings  which  these  volumes  contain  must 
be  carefully  comiared  with  one  another,  and  with 
themselves.  What  remains  of  contemporary  au- 
thors', or  of  authors  connected  with  the  age,  the 
country,  or  the  subject  of  our  scriptures,  must  be 
p.  rused  and  consulted,  in  order  to  interpret  boubt- 
ful  forms  of  speech,  and  to  explain  allusions  which 
refer  to  objects  or  usages  that  no  longer  exist.  Above 
all,  the  modes  of  expression,  the  habits  of  reasoning 
and  argumentation,  which  were  then  in  use,  and  to 
which  the  di-courses  even  of  inspired  teachers  were 
necessarily  adapted,  must  be  sufficiently  known,  and 
can  only  be  known  at  all,  by  a  due  acquaintance  with 
ancient  literature.  And,  lastly,  to  establish  the  gen- 
uineness and  integrity  of  the  canonical  scriptures 
themselves,  a  series  of  testimony,  recognizhig  the 
notoriety  and  reception  of  these  books,  must  be  de- 
duced from  times  near  to  those  of  their  first  publica- 
tion, down  the  succession  of  ages  through  which  they 
have  been  transmitted  to  us.  The  qualifications  ne- 
cessary for  such  researches  demand,  it  is  confessed,  a 
degree  of  leisure,  and  a  kind  of  education,  inconsist- 
ent with  the  exercise  of  any  other  profession ;  but 
how  few  are  there  amongst  the  clergy,  from  whom 
any  thing  of  this  sort  can  be  expected  !  How  small 
a  proportion  of  their  number,  who  seem  likely  either 
lo  augment  the  fund  of  sacred  literature,  or  even  to 
collect  what  is  already  known  ! — To  this  objection  it 
may  be  replied,  that  we  sow  many  seeds  to  raise  one 


mid  of  Toleraiu)7i.  4-19 

flower.  In  order  to  produce  a  few  capable  of  im- 
proving and  continuing  the  stock  of  Christian  erudi- 
tion, leisure  and  opportunity  must  be  aiforded  to 
great  numberN'.  Original  knowledge  of  this  kind 
can  never  be  universal  ;  but  it  is  of  the  utmost  im- 
portance, and  it  is  enough,  that  there  be,  at  all  times, 
found  so7ne  qualified  for  such  inquiries,  and  in  whose 
concurring  and  independent  conclusions  upon  each 
subject,  the  rest  of  the  Christian  community  may 
safely  confide  :  whereas,  without  an  order  of  clergy 
educated  for  the  purpose,  and  led  to  the  prosecution 
of  these  studies  by  the  habits,  the  leisure,  and  the  ob- 
ject of  their  vocation,  it  may  well  be  questioned 
whether  the  learning  itself  would  not  have  been  lost, 
by  which  the  records  of  our  faith  are  interpreted  and 
defended.  We  contend,  therefore,  that  an  order  of 
clergy  is  nece-sary  to  perpetuate  the  evidences  of  rev- 
elation, and  to  interpret  the  obscurities  of  these  an- 
cient writings,  in  which  the  religion  is  contained. 
But  beside  this,  which  farms,  no  doubt,  one  desip-n 
or  their  institution,  the  more  ordinary  offices  of  pub- 
lic teaching,  and  of  conducting  public  worship,  call 
for  qualifications  not  u^ually  to  be  met  with  amidst 
the  employments  of  civil  life.  It  has  been  acknowl- 
edged by  some,  who  cannot  be  suspected  of  making 
cnnecessary  concessions  in  favour  of  estabHshments, 
'"  to  be  barely  possible  that  a  person  who  w^as  never 
educated  for  the  ofEce  should  acquit  himself  with  de- 
cency as  a  public  teacher  of  religion."  i\nd  that 
surely  must  be  a  very  defective  policy,  which  trusts 
to  pcssibilities  for  success,  when  provision  is  to  be 
made  for  regular  and  general  in-^truction.  Little  ob- 
jection to  this  argument  can  be  drawn  from  the  ex- 
ample of  the  Quakers,  who,  it  may  be  said,  furnish 
an  experimental  proof  that  the  worship  and  profession 
of  Christianity  may  be  upheld,  without  a  separate 
clergy.  These  sectaries  every  where  subsist  in  con- 
junction with  a  regular  establishment.  They  have 
access  to  the  writings,  they  profit  by  the  labours  oi 
the  clergy  in  common  with  other  Christians.  They 
participate  in  that  general  diffusion  of  religious 
knowledge,  which  the  constant  teaching  of  a  more 


420  Of  Religious  Establishments , 

regular  ministry  keeps  up  in  the  country  :  with  such 
aids,  and  under  s.uch  circumstances,  the  defects  of  a 
plan  may  not  be  much  felt,  although  the  plan  itself 
be  altogether  unfit  for  general  imitation. 

2.  If  then  an  order  of  clergy  be  necessary,  if  it  be 
necessary  also  to  seclude  them  from  the  employments 
and  profits  of  other  professions ;  it  is  evident  they 
ought  to  be  enabled  to  derive  a  maintenance  from 
their  own.  Now  this  maintenance  must  either  de- 
pend upon  the  voluntary  contributions  of  their  hear- 
ers, or  arise  from  revenues  assigned  by  authority  of 
law.  To  the  scheme  of  voluntary  contribution  there 
exists  this  insurmountable  objection,  that  few  would 
ultimately  contribute  any  thing  at  all.  However 
the  zeal  of  a  sect,  or  the  novelty  of  a  change,  mij.i..t 
support  such  an  experiment  for  a  while,  no  reliaiice 
could  be  placed  upon  it  as  a  general  and  permanent 
provision.  It  is  at  all  times  a  bad  constitution, 
which  presents  temptations  of  interest  in  opposition 
to  the  duties  of  religion  ;  or  which  make^  the  offices 
of  religion  expensive  to  those  who  attend  upon 
them  ;  or  which  allows  pretences  of  con  cience  to  be 
an  excuse  for  not  sharing  ^n  a  public  burthen.  If,  by 
declining  to  frequent  religious  a>semblies,  men  could 
save  their  money,  at  the  same  time  that  they  indul- 
ged their  indolence,  and  th':ir  disinclination  to  exer- 
cises of  seriousness  and  reflection  ;  or  if,  by  dissenting 
from  the  national  religion,  they  could  be  excused 
from  contributing  to  the  support  of  the  miaibters  of 
religion,  it  is  to  be  feared  that  many  would  take  ad- 
vantage of  the  option  which  was  thus  imprudently 
left  open  to  them,  and  that  this  liberty  might  finally 
operate  to  the  decay  of  virtue,  and  an  irrecoverable 
forgetfulness  of  all  religion  in  the  country.  Is  there 
not  too  much  reason  to  fear,  that,  if  it  were  referred 
to  the  discretion  of  each  neighbourhood,  whether 
they  would  maintain  amongst  them  a  teacher  of  're- 
ligion or  not,  many  districts  would  remain  unpro- 
vided  with  any ;  that,  with  the  difficulties  which  en- 
cumber every  measure,  requiring  the  co-operation 
of  numbers,  and  where  each  individual  of  the  num- 
ber has  an  interest  secretly  pleading  against  the  sue- 


and  of  Toleration.  421 

cess  of  the  measure  itself,  associations  for  the  support 
of  Christian  worship  and  instruction  would  neither  be 
numerous  nor  long  continued?  The  devout  and  pious 
might  lament  in  vain  the  want  or  the  distance  of  a  re- 
ligious assembly:  they  could  not  form  or  maintain  one, 
without  the  concurrence  of  neighbours,  who  felt  nei- 
ther their  zeal  nor  their  liberality. 

From  the  difficulty  with  which  congregations 
would  be  established  and  upheld  upon  the  voluntary 
plan,  let  us  carry  our  thoughts  to  the  condition  of 
those  who  are  to  officiate  in  them.  Preaching,  in 
time,  would  become  a  mode  of  begging.  With  what 
sincerity,or  with  what  dignity,  can  a  preacher  dispense 
the  truths  of  Christianity,  whose  thoughts  are  per- 
petually solicited  to  the  reflection  how  he  may  in- 
crease his  subscription  ?  His  eloquence,  if  he  possess 
any,  resembles  rather  the  exihibition  of  a  player  who 
is  computing  the  proffits  of  his  theatre,  than  the  sim- 
plicity of  a  man,  who,  feeling  himself  the  awful  ex- 
pectations of  religion,  is  seeking  to  bring  others  to 
such  a  sense  and  understanding  of  their  duty  as  may 
save  their  souls.  Moreover,  a  little  experience  of 
the  disposition  of  the  common  people  will  in  every 
country  informs  us,  that  it  is  one  thing  to  edify  them 
in  Christian  knowledge,  and  another  to  gratify  their 
taste  for  vehement  impassioned  oratory  ;  that  he^ 
not  onlywhose  success,  but  whose  subsistence  depends 
upon  collecting  and  pleasing  a  crowd,  must  resort  to 
other  arts  than  the  acquirement  and  communication 
of  sober  and  profitable  instruction.  For  a  preacher 
to  be  thus  at  the  mercy  of  his  audienc  j  to  be  obliged 
to  adapt  his  doctrines  to  the  pleasure  of  a  capricious 
multitude,  to  be  continually  affecting  a  style  and 
manner  neither  natural  to  him,  nor  agreeable  to  his 
judgment,  to  live  in  constant  bondage  to  tyrannical 
and  insolent  directors,  are  circumstances  so  mortify- 
ing, not  only  to  the  pride  of  the  human  heart,  but 
to  the  virtuous  love  of  independency,  that  they  are 
rarely  submitted  to  without  a  sacrifice  of  principle, 
and  a  depravation  of  character — at  least  it  may  be 
pronounced,  that  a  ministry  so  degraded  would  soon 
fall  into  the  lowest   hands  ;    for  it  would  be  found 


422  Of  Religious  EstablishmentSy 

impossible  to  engage  men  of  worth  and  ability  in  so 
precarious  and  humiliating  a  profession. 

If  in  deference,  then,  to  these  reasons,  it  be  admit- 
ted, that  a  legal  provision  for  the  clergy,  compulsory 
upon  those  who  contribute   to  it,  is  expedient ;    the 
next  question  will  be.  Whether  this  provision  should 
be  confined  to  one  sect  of  Christianity,  or  extended 
indifferently  to  all  ?  Now,  it  should  be  oberved,  that 
this  question  never  can  offer  itself  where  the  people 
are  agreed  in  thier  religious   opinions  ;    and  that  it 
never  ought  to  arise,   where  a  system  may  be  framed 
of  doctrines  and  worship  wide  enough  to  compre- 
hend their  disagreement ;  and  which  might  satisfy  all 
by  uniting  all  in  the  articles  of  their  common  faith, 
and  in  a  mode  of  divine   worship,   that  omits  every 
subject  of  controversy  or   offence. — Where  such  a 
comprehension  is  practicable,  the  comprehending  re- 
ligion  ought  to  be  made  that  of  the  state.     But   if 
this  be  despaired  of;  if  religious  opmions  exist,  not 
only  so  various,    but  so  contradictory,  as  to  render  It 
Impossible  to  reconcile  them  to  each  other,  or  to  any 
one  confession  of  faith,  rule  of  discipline,  or  form  of 
worship ;    if,  consequently,   separate  congregations 
and  different  sects  must  unavoidably  continue  in  the 
country  ;  under  such  circumstances,  whether  the  laws 
ought  to  establish  one  sect  in  preference  to  the  rest-g 
that  is,  v/hether  they  ought  to  confer  the  provision 
assigned  to   the  maintenance    of  religion    upon  the 
teachers  of  one  system  of  doctrines  alone,  becomes  a 
question  of  necessary  discussion  and  of  great  import- 
ance.    And  whatever  we  may  determine  concerning 
speculative  rights  and   abNtract  proprieties,  when  we 
set  about  the  framing  of  an  ecclesiastical  constitution 
adapted  to  real  life,  and  to  the  actual  state  of  religion 
in  the  country,  we  shall  find  this  question  very  near- 
ly related  to,  and  principally  indeed  dependant  upon 
another  ;  namely,  "  In  what  way,  or  by  whom  ought 
the  ministers  of  religion  to  be  appointed?**  If  thespecies 
of  patronage  be  retained  to  which  we  are  accustomed 
in  this  country,  and  which  allows  private  individuals 
to  nominate  teachers  of  religion  for  districts  and  con- 
gregations to  which    they    are   absolute  strangers  j 


and  of  Toleration.  423 

without  some  test  proposed  to  the  persons  nominated, 
the  utmost  discordancy  of  religious  opinions  might 
arise  between  the  several  teachers  and  their  respective 
congregations.  A  popish  patron  might  appoint  a  priest 
to  say  mass  to  a  congregation  of  protestants;  an  episco- 
pal clergyman  be  sent  to  officiate  in  a  parish  of  pres- 
byterians  ;  or  a  presbyterian  divine  to  inveigh  against 
the  errors  of  popery  before  an  audience  of  papists. 
The  requisition  then  of  subscription,  or  any  other 
test  by  which  the  national  religion  is  guarded,  may 
be  considered  merely  as  a  restriction  upon  the  ex  r- 
cise  of  private  patronage.  The  laws  speak  to  the 
private  patron  thus : — "  Of  those  whom  we  have 
previously  pronounced  to  be  firly  qualified  to  teach 
religion,  vv-e  allow  you  to  select  one  ;  but  we  do  not 
allow  you  to  decide  what  religion  shall  be  established 
in  a  particular  district  of  the  country  ;  for  which  de- 
cision you  are  nowise  fitted  by  any  qualifications 
which,  as  a  private  patron,  you  may  happen  to  pos- 
sess. If  it  be  necessary  that  the  point  be  determined 
for  the  inhabitants  by  any  other  will  than  their  own, 
it  is  surely  better  that  it  should  be  determined  by  a 
deliberate  resolution  of  the  legi  lature,  than  by  the 
casual  inclination  of  an  individual,  by  whom  the 
right  is  purchased,  or  to  whom  it  devolves  as  a  mere 
secular  inheritance.'*  Wheresoever,  therefore,  this 
constitution  of  patronage  is  adopted,  a  national  relig- 
ion, or  the  legal  preference  of  one  particular  religion 
to  all  others,  must  almost  necessarily  accompany  it. 
But,  secondly,  let  it  be  supposed  that  the  appointment 
of  the  minister  of  religion  was  in  every  parish  left  to 
the  choice  of  the  pariahoners,  might  not  this  choice, 
we  ask,  be  safely  exercised  without  its  being  limited 
to  the  teachers  of  any  particular  sect  ?  The  effect  of 
such  a  hberty  must  be,  that  a  papist,  or  a  presbyteri- 
an, a  methodist,  a  moravian,  or  an  anabaptist,  would 
successively  gain  possession  of  the  pulpit,  according  as 
a  majority  of  the  party  happened  at  each  election  to 
prevail.  Now  with  what  violence  the  conflict  would 
upon  every  vacancy  be  renewed  ;  what  bitter  ani- 
mosities would  be  revived,  or  rather  be  constantly 

F  F   F 


424?  Of  Religious  Establisbmcnis, 

fed  and  kept  alive  in  the  neighbourhood  ;  with  what 
unconquerable  aversion  the  teacher  and  his  religion 
would  be  received  by  the  defeated  party,  may  be 
foreseen  by  those  who  reflect  with  how  much  passion 
every  dispute  is  carried  on,  in  which  the  name  of  re- 
ligion can  be  made  to  mix  itself;  much  more  where 
the  cause  itself  is  concerned  so  immediately  as  it 
would  be  in  this.  Or,  thirdly,  if  the  state  appoint 
the  ministers  of  religion,  this  constitution  will  differ 
little  from  the  establishment  of  a  national  religion;  for 
the  state  will,  undoubtedly,  appoint  those,  and  those 
alone,  whose  religious  opinions,  or  rather  whose  re- 
ligious denomination  agrees  with  its  own  ;  unless  it 
be  thought  that  any  thing  would  be  gained  to  relig- 
ious liberty  by  transferring  the  choice  of  the  national 
religion  from  the  legislature  of  the  country,  to  the 
magistrate  who  administers  the  executive  govern- 
ment. The  only  plan  which  seems  to  render  the  le- 
gal maintenance  of  a  clergy  practicable,  without  the 
legal  preference  of  one  sect  of  Christians  to  others,  is 
that  of  an  experiment  which  is  said  to  be  attempted 
or  designed  in  some  of  the  new  states  of  North  Amer- 
ica. The  nature  of  the  plan  is  thus  described.  A 
tax  is  levied  upon  the  inhabitants  for  the  general  sup- 
port  of  religion  ;  the  collector  of  the  tax  goes  round 
with  a  register  in  his  hand,  in  which  are  inserted,  at 
the  Ivead  of  so  many  distinct  columns,  the  names  of 
the  several  religious  sects,  that  are  professed  in  the 
country.  The  person,  who  is  called  upon  for  the  as- 
sessment, as  soon  as  he  has  paid  his  quota,  subscribes 
his  name  aiw-  the  cum  in  which  of  the  columns  he 
pleases;  and  the  amount  of  what  is  collected  in  each 
column  is  paid  over  to  the  minister  of  that  denomina- 
tion. In  this  scheme  it  is  not  left  to  the  option  of 
the  subject,  whether  he  will  contribute,  or  how  much 
he  shall  contribute  to  the  maintena  ce  of  a  Christian 
ministry  ;  it  is  only  referred  to  his  choice  to  deter- 
mine by  what  sect  his  contribution  shall  be  received. 
The  above  arrangement  is,  undoubtedly,  the  best  that 
ha^  been  proposed  upon  this  principle  :  it  bears  the 
appearance  of  liberality  and   justice ;  it  may  contain 


and  of  Tolemtion*  43-5 

teome  solid  advantages  ;  nevertheless,  it  labours  under 
inconveniences  which  will  be  found,  I  thnik,  upon 
trial  to  overbalance  all  its  recommendations.  It  is 
scarcely  compatible  with  that,  which  is  the  first  requi- 
site in  an  eccle  laj-tical  '-stablishment,  the  division  of 
the  country  into  parishes  of  a  commodious  extent. 
If  the  parishes  be  snjall,  and  ministers  of  every  de- 
nomination be  stationed  in  each,  which  the  plan  seems 
to  suppose,  the  expense  of  their  maintenance  will  be- 
come too  burthensome  a  charge  for  the  country  to 
support.  If,  to  reduce  the  expense,  the  districts  be 
enlarged,  the  place  of  assembling  will  oftentimes  be 
too  far  removed  from  the  residence  of  the  persons 
who  ought  to  resort  to  it.  Agam,  the  making  the  pe-  ; 
cuniary  success  of  the  different  teachers  of  religion 
to  depend  upon  the  number  and  wealth  of  their  re-  • 
spective  followers,  would  naturally  generate  strifes, 
and  indecent  jealousies  amongst  them,  as  well  as  pro- 
duce a  polemical  and  proselyting  spirit,  founded  in 
or  mixed  with  views  of  private  gain,  which  would 
both  deprave  the  principles  of  the  clergy,  and  distract 
the  country  with  endless  contentions. 

The  argument,  then,  by  which  ecclesiastical  estab- 
lishments are  defended,  proceeds  by  these  steps.  The 
knowledge  and  profession  of  Christianity  cannot  be 
upheld  without  a  clergy  ;  a  clergy  cannot  be  sup- 
ported without  a  legal  provision  ;  a  legal  provision 
for  the  clergy  cannot  be  constituted  without  the 
preference  of  one  sect  of  Christians  to  the  rest  :  and 
the  conclusion  will  be  conveniently  satisfactory  in  the 
degree  in  which  the  truth  of  these  several  proposi- 
tions can  be  made  out. 

If  it  be  deemed  expedient  to  establish  a  national 
religion,  that  is  to  say,  one  sect  in  preference  to  all 
others  j  :-ome  test^  by  which  the  teachers  of  that  sect 
may  be  distinguished  from  the  teachers  of  different 
sects,  appears  to  be  an  indispensable  consequence. 
The  existence  of  vsuch  an  establishment  supposes  it ; 
the  very  notion  of  a  national  religion  includes  that  of 
a  test.  But  this  necessity,  which  is  real,  hath,  accord- 
ing to  the  fashion  of  human  affairs,  furnished  to  a!» 


426  Of  Religions  EstablishTnents, 

most  every  church  a  pretence  for  extending,  multi- 
pi)  mg  and  coiitinuing  such  tests  beyond  what  the 
occa  ion  ju  tified.  For  though  some  purposes  of  or- 
der and  tranquility  may  be  answered  by  the  estab- 
li.shment  of  creeds  and  confessions,  yet  they  are  at  all 
times  attended  with  serious  inconveniences.  They 
check  inquiry  ;  they  violate  liberty  ;  they  ensnare 
th.^  consciences  of  the  clergy  by  holding  out  tempta- 
tions to  prevarication  ;  however  they  may  express 
the  persuasion,  or  be  accommodated  to  the  contro- 
versies, or  to  the  fears,  of  the  age  in  which  they  are 
composed,  in  process  of  time,  and  by  reason  of  the 
changes  which  are  wont  to  take  place  in  the  judgment 
of  mankind  upon  religious  subjects,  they  come  at 
length  to  contradict  the  actual  opinions  of  the  church, 
whose  doctrines  they  profess  to  contain  ;  and  they 
often  perpetuate  the  proscription  of  sects  and  tenets, 
from  which  any  danger  has  long  ceased  to  be  appre- 
hended. 

It  may  now  follow  from  these  objections  that  tests 
and  subscriptions  ought  to  be  abolished  ;  but  it  fol- 
lows that  they  ought  to  be  made  as  simple  and  easy 
as  possible  ;  that  they  should  be  adapted  from  time  to 
time  to  the  varying  sentiments  and  circumstances  of 
the  church  in  which  they  are  received  ;  and  that  they 
should  at  no  time  advance  one  step  farther  than  some 
subsisting  necessity  requires.  If,  for  instance,  prom- 
ises of  conformity  to  the  rites,  liturgy  and  offices  of 
the  church,  be  sufficient  to  prevent  confusion  and 
disorder  in  the  celebration  of  divine  worship,  then 
such  promises  ought  to  be  accepted  in  the  place  of 
stricter  subscriptions.  If  articles  of  peace,  as  they  are 
called,  that  is,  engagements  not  to  preach  certain 
doctrines,  nor  to  revive  certain  controversies,  would 
exclude  indecent  altercations  amongst  the  national 
clergy,  as  well  as  secure  to  the  pulic  teaching  of  re- 
ligion as  much  of  uniformity  and  quiet  as  is  necessary 
to  edific  tion  ;  then  confessions  of  faith  ought  to  be 
converted  into  articles  of  peace.  In  a  word,  it  ought 
to  be  held  a  sufficient  reason  for  relaxing  the  terms 
of  subscription,  or  for  dropping  any  or  all  of  the  ar- 


and  of  Toleration,  427 

tides  to  be  subscribed,  that  no  present  necessity  re- 
quires the  strictness  which  is  complained  of,  or  that  it 
should  be  extended  to  s )  many  points  of  doctrine. 

The  division  of  the  country  into  districts,  and  the 
stationing  in  each  district  a  teacher  of  religion,  forms 
the  substantial  part  of  every  church  establishment. 
The  varieties  that  have  been  introduced  into  the  gov- 
ernment and  discipline  of  different  churches  are  of 
inferior  importance,  when  compared  with  this,  in 
which  they  all  agree.  Of  these  economical  ques- 
tions, none  seems  more  material  than  that  which  has 
been  long  agitated  in  the  reformed  churches  of  Chris- 
tendom, whether  a  parity  amongst  the  clergy,  or  a 
distinction  or  orders  in  the  ministry,  be  more  condu- 
cive to  the  general  ends  of  the  institution.  In  favour 
of  that  .system  which  the  laws  of  this  country  have 
preferred,  we  may  allege  the  following  reasons :  that 
it  secures  tranquility  and  subordination  amongst  the 
clergy  themselves  ;  that  it  corresponds  v;ith  the  gra- 
dations of  rank  in  civil  life,  and  provides  for  the  edi- 
fication of  each  rank,  by  stationing  in  each  an  order 
of  clergy  of  their  own  class  and  quality  ;  and  lastly, 
that  the  same  fund  produces  more  eff'ect,  both  as  an 
allurement  to  men  of  talents  to  enter  into  the  church, 
and  as  a  stimulus  to  the  industry  of  those  who  are  al- 
ready in  it,  when  distributed  into  prizes  of  different 
value,  than  when  divided  into  equal  shares. 

After  the  state  has  once  established  a  particular  sys- 
tem of  faith  as  a  national  religion,  a  question  will  soon 
occur,  concerning  the  treatment  and  toleration  of 
those  who  dissent  from  it.  This  question  is  properly 
preceded  by  another,  concerning  the  right  which  the 
civil  magistrate  possesses  to  interfere  in  matters  of  re- 
ligion at  all  :  for  although  this  right  be  acknowledg- 
ed whilst  he  is  employed  solely  in  providing  means  of 
public  instruction,  it  will  probably  be  disputed,  in- 
deed it  ever  has  been,  when  he  proceeds  to  inflict 
penalties,  to  impose  restraints  or  incapacities  on  the 
account  of  religous  distinctions.  They  who  admit 
no  other  just  original  of  civil  government,  than  what 
is  founded  in  some  stipulation  with  its  subjects,  are  at 


4!tS  Of  Religious  Establishments, 

liberty  to  contend  that  the  concerns  of  religion  were 
excepted  out  of  the  social  compact ;  that  in  an  affair 
which  can  only  be  transacted  between  God  and  a 
man's  own  conscience,  no  commission  or  authority 
was  ever  delegated  to  the  civil  magistrate,  or  could 
indeed  be  transferred  from  the  person  himself  to  any 
other.  We,  however,  who  have  rejected  this  theo- 
ry, because  we  cannot  discover  any  actual  contract 
between  the  state  and  the  people,  and  because  we  can- 
not allow  an  arbitrary  fiction  to  be  made  the  founda- 
tion of  real  rights  and  of  real  obligations,  find  out- 
selves  precluded  from  this  distinction.  The  reason- 
ing which  deduces  the  authority  of  civil  government 
from  the  will  of  God,  and  which  collects  that  will 
from  public  expediency  alone,  binds  us  to  the  unre- 
served conclusion,  that  the  jurisdiction  of  the  magis- 
trate is  limited  by  no  consideration  but  that  of  gen- 
eral utiUty :  in  plainer  terms,  that  whatever  be  the 
subject  to  be  regulated,  it  is  lawful  for  him  to  inter- 
fere whenever  his  interference,  in  its  general  tenden- 
cy, appears  to  be  conducive  to  the  common  interest. 
There  is  nothing  in  the  nature  of  religion,  as  such, 
which  exempts  it  from  the  authority  of  the  legisla- 
tor, when  the  safety  or  welfare  of  the  community  re- 
quires his  interposition.  It  has  been  said,  indeed, 
that  religion,  pertaining  to  the  interest  of  a  life  to 
come,  lies  beyond  the  province  of  civil  government, 
the  ofijce  of  v/hich  is  confined  to  the  affairs  of  this 
life.  But,  in  reply  to  this  objection,  it  may  be  ob- 
served, that  when  the  laws  interfere  even  in  religion, 
they  interfere  only  with  temporals  ;  their  effects  ter- 
minate, their  power  operates  only  upon  those  rights 
and  interests,  which  confessedly  belong  to  their  dispo- 
sal. The  acts  of  the  legislature,  the  edicts  of  the 
prince,  the  sentence  of  the  judge  cannot  affect  my  sal- 
vation ;  nor  do  they,  without  the  most  absurd  arro- 
gance, pretend  to  any  such  power  :  but  they  may 
deprive  me  of  liberty,  of  property,  and  even  of  life 
itself  on  account  of  my  religion  ;  and  however  I  may 
complain  of  the  injustice  of  the  sentence,  by  which  I 
am  condemned,  I  cannot  allege,  that  the  magistrate 


and  of  Toleration*  49^ 

has  transgressed  the  boundaries  of  bis  jurisdiction  ; 
because  the  property,  the  liberty,  and  the  life  of  the 
subject,  may  be  taken  away  by  the  authority  of  the 
laws,  for  any  reason,  which,  in  the  judgment  of  the 
legislature,  renders  such  a  measure  necessary  to  the 
common  welfare.  Moreover,  as  the  precepts  of  re- 
ligion may  regulate  all  the  offices  of  life,  or  may  be 
so  construed  as  to  extend  to  all,  the  exemption  of  re- 
ligion from  the  control  of  human  laws  might  afford 
a  plea,  which  would  exclude  civil  government  from 
every  authority  over  the  conduct  of  its  subjects.  Re- 
ligious liberty  is  like  civil  liberty,  not  an  immunity 
from  restraint,  but  the  being  restrained  by  no  law, 
but  what  in  a  greater  degree  conduces  to  the  public 
welfare. 

Still  it  is  right  "  to  obey  God  rather  than  man.*' 
Nothing  that  we  have  said  encroaches  upon  the  truth 
of  this  sacred  and  undisputed  maxim  :  the  right  of 
the  magistrate  to  ordain,  and  the  obligation  of  the 
subject  to  obey,  in  matters  of  religion,  may  be  very 
different ;  and  will  be  so  as  often  as  they  flow  from 
opposite  apprehensions  of  the  divine  will.  In  affairs 
that  are  properly  of  a  civil  nature ;  in  "  the  things 
that  are  Cesar's,"  this  difference  seldom  happens. 
The  law  authorizes  the  act  which  it  enjoins  ;  revela- 
tion being  either  silent  upon  the  subject,  or  referring 
to  the  laws  of  the  country,  or  requiring  only  that 
men  act  by  some  fixed  rule,  and  that  this  rule  be  es- 
tablished by  competent  authority.  But  when  human 
laws  interpose  their  direction  in  matters  of  religion, 
by  dictating,  for  example,  the  object  or  the  mode  of 
divine  worship  ;  by  prohibiting  the  profession  of  some 
articles  of  faith,  and  by  exacting  that  of  others,  they 
are  liable  to  clash  with  what  private  persons  believe 
to  be  already  settled  by  precepts  of  revelation  ;  or  to 
contradict  what  God  himself,  they  think,  hath  de^^ 
dared  to  be  true.  In  this  case,  on  whichever  side 
the  mistake  lies,  or  whatever  plea  the  state  may  a'* 
lege  to  justify  its  edict,  the  subject  can  have  none  to 
excuse  his  compliance.  The  same  consideration  also 
points  out  the  distinction,  as  to  the  authority  of  the 


4a0  Of  Religions  Establishments, 

state,  between  temporals  and  spirituals.  The  magisk 
trate  is  not  to  be  obeyed  in  temporals  more  than  m 
spirituals,  where  a  repugnancy  is  perceived  between 
his  commands,  and  any  credited  manifestations  of 
the  divine  will ;  but  such  repugnancies  are  much  less 
likely  to  arise  in  one  case  than  the  other. 

When  we  grant  that  it  is  lawful  for  the  macristrate 
to  interfere  in  religion  as  often  as  his  interference 
appears  to  him  to  conduce,  in  its  general  tendency, 
to  the  public  happiness  ;  it  may  be  argued,  from  this 
concession,  that,  since  salvation  is  the  highest  interest 
of  mankind,  and  since,  consequently,  to  advance  that 
is  to  promote  the  public  happiness  in  the  best  way, 
and  In  the  greatest  degree,  in  which  it  can  be  pro- 
moted, it  follows,  that  it  is  not  only  the  right,  but 
the  duty  of  every  magistrate,  invested  with  supreme 
power,  to  enforce  upon  his  subjects  the  reception  of 
that  religion,  which  he  deems  most  acceptable  to 
God  ;  and  to  enforce  it  by  such  methods  as  may  ap- 
pear most  effectual  for  the  end  proposed.  A  popish 
king,  for  example,  who  should  believe  that  salvation 
is  not  attainable  out  of  the  precincts  of  the  Romish 
church,  would  derive  a  right  from  our  principles  (not 
to  say  that  he  would  be  bound  by  them)  to  employ 
the  power  with  which  the  constitution  intrusted 
him,  and  which  power,  in  absolute  monarchies,  com- 
mands the  lives  and  fortunes  of  every  subject  of  the 
empire,  in  reducing  his  people  within  that  commun- 
ion. We  confess  that  this  consequence  is  inferred 
from  the  principles  we  have  laid  down  concerning 
the  foundation  of  civil  authority,  not  without  the 
resemblance  of  a  regular  deduction  :  we  confess  also 
that  it  is  a  conclusion  which  it  behoves  us  to  dispose 
of  ;  because,  if  it  really  follow  from  our  theory  of 
government,  the  theory  itself  ought  to   be  given  up. 

Now  it  will  be  remembered,  that  the  terms  of  our 
proposition  are  these :  "  That  it  \<  lawful  for  the 
magistrate  to  interfere  in  the  aflair^  of  religion,  when- 
ever his  interference  appears  to  him  to  conduce,  by 
Hs  general  tendency,  to  the  public  hanpiness."  The 
clause  of  "  general  tendency/'  when  this  rule  comcv'* 


and  of  Toleration.  431 

to  be  applied,  will  be  found  a  very  significant  part  of 
the  direction.  It  obliges  the  magistrate  to  rtflect, 
not  only,  whether  the  religion  which  he  wishes  to 
propagate  amongst  his  subjects,  be  that  which  will 
best  secure  their  eternal  welfare  ;  not  only,  whether 
the  methods  he  employs  be  likely  to  effectuate  the  es- 
tablishment of  that  religion  ;  but  also  upon  this  further 
question,  whether  the  kind  of  interference,  which  he 
is  about  to  exercise,  if  it  were  adopted  as  a  ciramon 
maxim  amongst  states  and  prince>,  or  receivtd  as  a 
general  rule  for  the  conduc'^  nf governnent  in  mat- 
ters of  religion,  would,  upon  the  whole,  and  in  the 
mass  of  instances  in  whi(  h  his  example  mighi  be  im- 
itated, conduce  to  the  furtherance  of  human  salvation. 
It  the  magistrate,  for  example,  should  think  that,  al- 
though the  application  of  his  power  might,  in  the  in- 
stance concerning  which  he  deliberates,  advance  the 
true  rehgion,  and  together  with  it  the  happiness  of 
his  people,  yet  that  the  same  engine^  in  other  hands, 
who  might  assume  the  right  to  use  it  with  the  like 
pretentions  of  reason  and  authoriry  that  he  himself 
alleges,  would  more  frequently  shut  out  truth,  and 
obstruct  the  means  of  salvation  ;  he  would  be  bound 
by  this  opinion,  still  admitting  public  utility  to  be  the 
supreme  rule  of  his  conduct,  to  refrain  from  expedi- 
ents, which,  whatever  particular  effects  he  may  expect 
from  them,  are  in  their  general  operation  dangerous 
or  hurtful.  If  there  be  any  difficulty  in  the  subject, 
it  arises  from  that  which  is  the  cau.  e  of  every  difficul- 
ty in  morale — the  competition  of  particular  and  gen- 
eral consequences  ;  or,  what  is  the  same  thing,  the 
submission  of  one  general  rule  to  another  rule  which 
is  still  more  general. 

Bearing  then  in  mind  that  it  is  the  general  tenden- 
cy of  the  measure,  or,  in  other  words,  the  effects 
which  would  arise  from  the  measure  being  generally 
adopted,  that  fixes  upon  it  the  character  of  rectitude 
or  injustice  ;  we  proceed  to  inquire  what  is  the  de- 
gree and  the  sort  of  interference  of  secular  laws  in 
matters  of  religion,  which  are  likely  to  be  beneficial 
to    the  public    happiness.     There  are  two  maxims, 

o  G  G 


432  Of  Religious  Establishmenis^ 

which  will  in  a  great  measure  regulate  our  conclu- 
sions upon  this  head.     The  first  is,  that  any  form  of 
Christianity  is  better  than  n»  religion  at  all  :    the  se- 
cond, that  of  different  systems  of  faith,  that  is  the  best 
which  is  the  truest.     The  first  of  these  positions  will 
hardly  be  disputed^  when   we   reflect,  that  every  sect 
-  and  modification  ol  Christianity  holds  out  the  happi- 
ness  and  misery  of  another  hfe,  as  depending  chiefly 
upon  the  practice  of  virtue  or  of  vice  in  this  ;  and 
that  the  distinctions  of  virtue  and  vice  are  nearly  the 
same  in  all.    A  person  who  acts  under  the  impression 
of  these  hopes   and  fears,  though  combined  with  ma- 
ny errors  and  superstitions,  is  more  likely  to  advance 
both  the  public  happiness  and  his  own,  than  one  who 
is   destitute  of  all  expectation  of  a  future    account. 
The  latter  proposition  is   founded  in  the  considera- 
tion that  the  principal  importance  of  religion  consists 
in  its  influence  upon  the  fate  and    condition   of  a  fu- 
ture existence.     This   influence  belongs  only  to  that 
religion  which  comes  from  God.  A  political  religion 
may    be  fraiicd,   which  shall  embrace  the  purposes, 
and  de?cribe  the  duties,  cf  political  society  perfectly 
well ;  but  if  it  be  not  delivered   by   God.  what  aj^sur- 
ance  docr.  k  ^iff  nl,   that  rhe    decisions  of  the  divine 
judgm -tu  will    hiive  any  regard  to  the  rules  wjiich  it 
contains  ?    By  a  man  who  acts  with  a  view  to  a  fu- 
ture jui'gment,  the  authority  of  a  religion    is  the  first 
thing  .  inquired    after  ;     a  religion   which  wants  au- 
thority, wiih  him  wants    every    thing.     Since  then 
this  authority  appertains,  not  to   the    religion  which 
is    most    commodious,  to  the  religion  which  is  most 
sublime    u^id   efficacious,   to   the  religion  which  suits 
best  with    the  form,  or  seems  most  calculated  to  up- 
hold the  power  and  stability  of  civil  government,  but 
only  to  that  religion  which  comes  from  God  ;  we  are 
justified  in  pronouncing  the  true  religion,  by  its  ,very 
truth,  and  independently  of  all  considerations  of  ten- 
dencies, aptnesses,    or    any    other  internal  qualities 
whatever,  to  be  universally  the  best. 

From  the  first  proposition  follows   this    inference, 
that  when  the  state  enables  its  subjects  to  learn  some 


and  of  Toleration.  433 

form  of  Christianity,  by  distributing  teachers  of  a  re^ 
Jigious  system  throughout  the  country,  and  by  pro. 
viding  for  the  maintenance  of  these  teachers  at  the 
public  expense  ;  that  is,  in  fewer  terms,  \vhen  the 
Jaws  establish  a  national  rehgion,  they  exercise  a  pow- 
er and  an  interference,  v  hich  are  hkely,  in  their  gen. 
eral  tendency,  to  promote  the  intere  t  of  mankind  ; 
for  even  supposing  the  specie'  of  Christianity  which 
the  laws  patronize  to  be  erroneous  and  corrupt,  yet 
when  the  option  lies  between  this  religion  and  no  re- 
ligion at  all,  which  would  be  the  consequence  of  leav- 
ing the  people  without  any  public  means  of  instruc- 
tion, or  any  regular  celebration  of  the  offices  of 
Christianity,  our  proposition  teaches  us  that  the  for- 
raer  alternative  is  constantly  to  be  preferred. 

But  after  the  right  of  the  magistrate  to  e^t^blish  a 
particular  religion  has  been,  upon  this  principle,  ad- 
mitted ;  a  doubt  sometimes  presents  itfeelf,  whether 
the  religion  which  he  ought  to  establish  be  that  which 
he  himself  professes,  or  that  which  he  observes  to 
prevail  amongst  the  majority  of  the  people.  Now 
when  we  consider  this  question  \yith  a  view  to  the 
formation  of  a  general  rule  upon  the  subject,  which 
view  alone  can  furnish  a  ju>t  solution  of  the  doubt,  it 
must  be  assumed  to  be  an  equal  chance  whether  of  the 
two  religions  contains  more  of  truth,  that  of  the  ma- 
gistrate, or  that  of  the, people.  The  chanre  then  that 
is  left  to  truth  being  equal  upon  both  suppositions, 
the  remaining  consideration  will  be,  from  which  ar- 
rangement more  efficacy  can  be  expected — from  an 
order  of  men  appointed  to  teach  the  people  their  own 
religion,  or  to  convert  them  to  another.  In  my 
opinion,  the  advantage  hes  on  the  side  of  the  former 
scheme  ;  and  this  opinion,  if  it  be  assented  to,  makes 
it  the  duty  of  the  magi  trate,  in  the  choice  of  the  re- 
ligion which  he  establishes,  to  consult  tho  faith  of  the 
nation  rather  than  his  own. 

The  case  also  of  dissenters  must  be  determined  by 
the  principles  just  now  stated.  Toleration  is  of  two 
kinds :  the  allowing  to  dissenters  the  unmolested  pro- 
fession and  exercise  of  their  religion,  but  with  an  ex- 


434  Of  Religious  Eslablisbments, 

elusion  from -offices  of  truft  and  emolument  in  the 
state,  which  i  •  a  partial  toleration  ;  znd  the  admitting 
thein,  without  distinction,  to  all  the  civil  privileges 

j  and  capacities  of  other  citizenp,  which  is  a  complete 
toleration.     The    expediency  ot  toleration,  and  con- 

'  sequent ly  the  right  of  every  citizen  to  demand  it,  as 
far  a  relates  to  the  liberty  of  conscience,  and  the  claim 
of  beirj;r  orotected  in  the  free  and  safe  profession  of  his 
religion,  i   deducible  from  the  second  of  those  propo- 
sitions, which  we  have    delivered  as  the  grounds  of 
our  conrlu'-^ions  upon  the  subject.     That    proposition 
asserts  tru;h,  and  truth  in  the  abstract,  to  be  the  su- 
preme perfection   of  every    religion.     The  advance- 
ment, consequently,  and  discovery    of  truth,  is  that 
end'    to    wh'ch    all  regulations  concerning    religion 
ou'.i^ht  principally  to  be  adapted.     Now  every  species 
of  intolerance  which  enj  >ins  suppresion  and  siknce ; 
and   every  sp(  cies  of  persecution  which   enforces  such 
injunctions,    is  adverse  to  the  progress  of  truth  ;  for- 
asmuch as  it  causes  that  to  be  fixed  by  one  set  of  men, 
at  one  time,  which  is  much    better,    and   with  much 
more'  probability  of  success,  left  to  the  independent 
and     progressive    inquiries    of    separate  individuals. 
Truth  results  from  di  cussion  and  from  controversy  ; 
is  investigated  by  the  labours  and   researches  of  pri- 
vate persons.     Whatever,  therefore,  prohibits  these, 
obstructs   that   industry,  and  ihat  liberty,  which  it  is 
the  common   interest  of   niiimkind  to  promote.     In 
religion,  as  in  other  subject':,  truth,  if  left  to  itself, 
will  almost  always  obtai.i  the  ascendency.     If  differ- 
ent religions  be  profe;:Sed  in  the  same  country,  and 
the  minds  of  men   rcxTiaai   unfettered  and  unawed  by 
intimidations    of  law,  th?.t  religion  which  is  f  )unded 
in  maxims  of  reason  and  c^'edibility,    will  gradually 
gain  over  the  other  to  it.     I  do  not  mean  that    men 
will    formally    renounce  their  ancient  religion,  but 
tlat    they    will     adopt  into  it  the  mcsre  rational  doc- 
trines, the  improvements  and  discoveries  of  the  neigh- 
bouring   sect ;  by  which    means  the  worse  religion, 
witnout  the  ceremony  of  a  reformation,  will   insensi- 
bly assimilate  itself  to  the  better.     If  popery,  for  in- 


and  of  Toleration.  435 

stance,  and  protestantism  were  permitted  to  dwell 
quietly  together,  papists  might  not  become  protes- 
tants,  (for  the  name  is  commonly  the  last  thing  that 
is  changed*)  but  they  would  become  more  enlight- 
ened and  informed  ;  they  would  by  little  and  little 
incorporate  into  their  creed  many  of  the  tenets  of 
protestantism,  as  well  a>  imbibe  a  portion  of  its  spirit 
and  moderation. 

The  ju>tice  and  expediency  of  toleration  we  found 
primarily  in  its  conduciveness  to  truth,  and  in  the  su- 
perior value  of  truth  to  that  of  any  other  quality 
which  a  religion  can  possess :  this  is  the  principal  ar- 
gument ;  but  there  are  some  auxiliary  considerations 
too  important  to  be  omitted.  The  confining  of 
the  subject  to  the  religion  of  the  state,  is  a  needless 
violation  of  natural  liberty,  and  in  an  instance  in 
which  constraint  is  always  grievou^.  Persecution 
produces  no  "sincere  conviction,  nor  any  real  change  of 
opinion  ;  on  the  contrary,  it  vitiates  the  public  mor- 
als by  driving  men  to  prevarication,  and  commonly 
ends  in  a  general  though  secret  infidelity,  by  impo- 
sing, under  the  name  of  revealed  religion,  systems  of 
doctrine  which  men  cannot  believe,  and  dare  not  ex- 
amine:  finally,  it  disgraces  the  character,  and  wounds 
the  reputation,  of  Christianity  itself,  by  making  it  the 
author  of  oppres  ion,  cruelty,  and  bloodshed. 

Under  the  idea  of  religious  toleration  I  include  the 
toleration  of  all  books  of  serious  argumentation : 
but  I  deem  it  no  infringement  of  religious  liberty  to 
restrain  the  circulation  of  ridicule,  invective,  and 
mockery,  upon  reHgious  subjects  ;  because  tliis  spe- 
cies of  writing  applies  solely  to  the  passions,  weakens 
the  judgment,  and  contaminates  the  imagination  of 
its  readers  ;  has  no  tendency  whatever  to  assist  either 
the  investigation  or  the  impression  of  truth  ;  on  the 
contrary,  whilst  it  stays  not  to  distinguish  betv^^eea 
the  authority  of  different  religionSj  it  destroys  alike 
the  influence  of  all. 


*  Would  we  let  the  name  standjWe  might  often  attract  meii,witliout  their 
perceiving  it,  much  nearer  to  ourselves,  thanj  if  they  did  n'-rr-ivf^  ;'  they 
would  be  willing  to  come. 


436  OfReligkus  Establishments^ 

Concerning  the  admission  of  dissenters  from  the 
estabUshed  religion  to  offices  and  employments  in  the 
public  service,  which  is  neces  ary  to  render  toleration 
complete,  doubts  have  been  entertained  with  some  ap- 
pearance of  reason.  It  is  possible  that  such  religious 
opinions  may  be  holden  as  are  utterly  incompatible 
with  the  necessary  functions  of  civil  government ; 
and  which  opinions  consequently  disqualify  those 
who  maintain  them,  from  exerci.-^ing  any  share  in  its 
administration.  There  have  been  enthusiasts  who 
held  that  Christianity  has  abolished  all  distinction  of 
property,  and  that  she  enjoins  upon  her  followers  a 
community  of  goods.  With  what  tolerable  propri- 
ety could  one  of  this  sect  be  appointed  a  judge  or  a 
magistrate,  whose  office  it  is  to  decide  upon  questions 
of  private  right,  and  to  protect  men  in  the  exclu>ive 
enjoyment  of  their  property  ?  It  would  be  equally 
absurd  to  intrust  a  military  command  to  a  Quaker, 
who  believes  it  to  be  contrary  to  the  gospel  to  take 
up  arms.  This  is  possible  ;  therefore  it  cannot  be 
laid  down  as  an  universal  truth,  that  religion  is  not 
in  its  nature  a  cause  which  will  justify  exclusion  from 
public  employments.  When  we  examine,  however^ 
the  sects  of  I  hristianity  which  actually  prevail  in  the 
world,  we  must  confess  that,  with  the  single  exception 
of  refusing  to  bear  arms,  we  find  no  tenet  in  any  of 
them  which  Incapacitate'  men  for  the  service  of  the 
state.  It  has  indeed  been  asserted  that  discordancy  of 
religions,  even  supposing  each  religion  to  be  free  from 
any  errors  that  affect  the  safety  or  the  conduct  of 
government,  is  enough  to  render  men  unfit  to  act 
together,  in  public  stations.  But  upon  what  argu- 
ment, or  upon  what  experience  is  this  asr.ertiou 
founded  ?  I  perceive  no  reason  why  men  of  different 
religious  persuasions  may  not  sit  upon  the  same 
bench,  deliberate  in  the  same  council,  or  fight  in  the 
same  ranks,  as  well  as  men  of  various  or  opposite 
opinions  upon  any  controverted  topic  of  natural 
philosophy,  history,  or  ethics. 

There  are  two  cares;  in  which  test  laws  are  wont  to 
be  applied,  and  in  which,  if  in  any,  they  may  be  de- 


and  of  Toleration,  437 

fended.  One  is  where  two  or  more  religions  are 
contending  for  establishment ;  and  where  there  ap- 
pears no  way  of  putting  an  end  to  the  contest  but  by- 
giving  to  one  religion  such  a  decided  superiority  in 
the  legislature  and  government  of  the  country,  as  to 
secure  it  against  danger  from  any  other.  I  own  that 
I  should  assent  to  this  precaution  with  many  scruples. 
If  the  dissenters  from  the  establishment  become  a  ma- 
jority of  the  people,  the  establishment  itself  ought  to 
be  altered  or  qualified.  If  there  exist  amongst  the 
different  sects  of  the  country  such  a  parity  of  num- 
bers, interest,  and  power,  as  to  render  the  preference 
of  one  sect  to  the  rest,  and  the  choice  of  that  sect,  a 
matter  of  hazardous  success,  and  of  doubtful  election, 
some  plan  similar  to  that  which  is  meditated  in  North 
America,  and  which  we  have  described  in  a  preceeding 
part  of  the  present  chapter,  though  encumbered  with 
great  difficulties,  may  perhaps  suit  better  with  this 
divided  state  of  public  opinions,  than  any  constitution 
of  a  national  church  whatever.  In  all  other  situa- 
tions, the  establishment  will  be  strong  enough  to 
maintain  itself  However,  if  a  test  be  applicable  with 
justice  upon  this  principle  at  all,  it  ought  to  be  appli- 
ed in  regal  governments  to  the  chief  magistrate  him- 
self, whose  power  might  otherwise  overthrow  or 
change  the  established  religion  of  the  country,  in  op» 
position  to  the  will  and  sentiments  of  the  people. 

The  second  case  of  exclusion  and  in  which,  I  think^ 
the  measure  is  more  easily  vindicated,  is  that  of  a 
country  in  which  some  disaffection  to  the  subsisting 
government  happens  to  be  connected  with  certain  re- 
ligious distinctions.  The  state  undoubtedly  has  a 
right  to  refuse  its  j  ower  and  its  confidence  to  those 
who  seek  its  destruction.  Wherefore,  if  the  general- 
ity of  any  religious  sect  entertain  dispositions  hostile 
to  the  consStitution,  and  if  government  have  no  other 
way  of  knowing  its  enemies  than  by  the  religion 
which  they  profess,  the  professors  of  that  religion 
may  justly  be  excluded  from  offices  of  trust  and  au- 
thority. But  even  here  it  should  be  observed,  that  it 
is  not  against  the  religion  that  government  shuts  itp 


438  Of  Religious  Establishments, 

doors,  but  against  those  political  principles,  which, 
however  independent  they   may  be  of  any  article   of 
religious  faith,  the  members  of  that  communion  are 
found    in  i.\a    to  hold.       Nor  would  the  legislator 
make  religious  tenets  the  test  of  men's   inclinations 
towards  the  .state,  if  he  could  discover  any  other  that 
was   equally  certain  and    notorious.      Thus,    if  the 
members  of  the  Romish   church,  for  the  most  part, 
adhere  to  the  interests,  or  maintain  the   right  of  a 
foreign  pretender  to  the  crown  of  these  kingdoms  ; 
and  if  there  be  no  way  of  distinguishing  those   who 
do   from  those   who  do  not  retain  such  dangerous 
prejudices  ;    government  is  well  warranted  in  fencing 
out  the  whole  sect  from  situations  of  trust  and  power. 
But    even  in   this   example,  it  is  not  to  popery  that 
the  laws  object,  but  to  popery  as  the  mark  of  jacobi- 
tism  ;   an   equivocal   indeed  and  fallacious  mark,  but 
the  best,  and    perhaps   the  only   one,  that  can  be  de- 
vised.    But  then  it  .■-hould   be  remembered,  that  as 
the  connexion  between  popery  and  jacobitism,  which 
is  the  sole  cause  ofsu  picion,  and  the  -ole  justificarion 
of  those  severe  and  jealous    laws  which  have  been 
enacted   against   the   professors  of  that  religion,  was 
accidental  in  its  origin,  so  probably  it  will  be  tempo- 
rary   in    its    duration ;    and  that   these  restrictions 
ought  not  to  continue  one  day  longer  than  some  vis- 
ible danger  renders  them  necessary  to  the  preserva- 
tion of  public  tranquillity. 

After  all,  it  may  be  asked,  why  should  not  the  le- 
gislator direct  his  test  against  the  political  principles 
themselves  which  he  v/ishes  to  exclude,  rather  than. 
encounter  them  through  the  medium  of  religious  te- 
nets, the  only  crime  and  the  only  danger  of  which 
consist  in  their  presumed  alliance  with  the  former  ? 
Why,  for  example,  should  a  man  be  required  to  re- 
nouce  tran^ubstantiation,  before  he  be  admitted  to 
an  office  in  the  state,  when  it  might  seem  to  be  suf- 
ficient that  he  abjure  the  pretender  ?  There  are  but 
two  answers  that  can  be  given  to  the  objection 
which  this  question  contains  ;  fir.st,  that  it  is  not 
opinions  which  the  lav»rs  fear,  so  much  as  inclinations  j 


and  of  Toleration,  489 

and  that  political  inclinations  are  not  so  easily  detect- 
ed by  the   affirmation  or  denial  of  any  abstract  prop, 
osition  in  politics,  as  by  the  discovery  of  the  religous 
creed  with  which  they  are  wont  to  be  united  :  sec- 
ondly, that  when  men  renounce  their   religion,  they 
commonly  quit  all  connexion  with  the  members  of 
the    church  which  they  have  left ;    that  church  no 
longer  expecting?  assistance  or  friendship  from  them  5 
whereas  particular  persons  might  insinuate  themselves 
into  offices  of  trust  and  authority,   by  >.ubsribing  po- 
litical assertions,  and  yet  retain  their  predilection  for 
the  interests  of  the  religious  sect  to  which  they  con- 
tinued   to    belong.     By   which    means  government 
would  sometimes  find,  though  it  could  not  accuse  the 
individual,  whom  it  had  received   into   its  service,  of 
disaffection  to  the  civil  establishment,  yet  that,  through 
him,  it  had  communicated  the  aid  and  influence  of  a 
powerful  station  to  a  party   who   were  hostile  to  the 
constitution.     These  answers,  however,  we  propose, 
rather  than  defend.     The  measure   certainly  connot 
be  defended  at  all,  except  where  the  suspected  union 
between  certain  obnoxious  principles  in  politics,  and 
certain    tenets    in    religion,  is  nearly  universal :  in 
which  case  it  makes  little  difference  to  the  subscriber, 
whether  the  test  be  religious  or  political ;  and  the  state 
is  somewhat  better  secured  by  the  one  than  the  othen 
The   result   of  our   examination  of  those  general 
tendencies,  by  which  every  interference  of  civil  gov- 
ernment  in   matters  of  religion  ought  to  be  tried,  is 
this  :  "  That  a  comprehensive  national  religion,  guard* 
ed  by  a  few  articles  of  peace  and  conformity,  togeth- 
er with  a  legal  provision  for  the  clergy  of  that  relig- 
ion ;    and   with    a  complete  toleration  of  all  dissenters 
from  the  established  church,   without  any  other  limi- 
tation  or   exception,  than  what  arises  from  the  con- 
junction of  dangerous  political  dispositions  with  cer* 
tain  religious  tenets,  appears  to  be,  not  only  the  most 
just  and  liberal,  but  the  wisest  and  safest  system,  which 
a  state  can  adopt :  inasmuch   as  it  unites  the  several 
perfections,  which  a  religious   constitution  ought  to 

H  H  H 


440  Of  Population,  Provision, 

aim  at — liberty  of  conscience,  with  means  of  instruc- 
tion ;  the  progress  of  truth,  with  the  peace  of  socie- 
ty ;  the  right  of  private  judgment,  with  the  care  of 
the  pubUc  safety." 


CHAPTER  XI. 

OF  POPULATION   AND  PROVISION;  AND 
-  OF  AGRICULTURE  AND  COMMERCE, 
AS  SUBSERVIENT  THERETO. 

The  final  view  of  all  rational  politics  is  to 
produce  the  greatest  quantity  of  happiness  in  a  given 
tract  of  country.  The  riches,  strength,  and  glory  of 
nations ;  the  topics  which,  history  celebrates,  and 
which  alone  almost  engage  the  praises,  and  possess 
the  admiration  of  mankind,  have  no  value  farther  than 
as  they  contribute  to  this  end.  When  they  interfere 
with  it,  rhey  are  evils,  and  not  the  less  real  for  the 
splendour  that  surrounds  them. 

Secondly,  although  we  speak  of  communities  as  of 
sentient  beings  ;  although  we  ascribe  to  them  happi- 
ness and  misery,  desires,  interests,  and  passions,  noth- 
ing really  exist*^  or  feels  but  individuals.  The  happi- 
ness of  a  people  is  made  up  of  the  happiness  of  single 
persons ;  and  the  quantity  of  happiness  can  only  be 
augmented  by  increasing  the  number  of  the  percipi- 
ents, or  the  pleasure  of  their  perceptions. 

Thirdly,  notwithstanding  that  diversity  of  condi- 
tion, especially  different  degrees  of  plenty,  freedom, 
and  security,  greatly  vary  the  quantity  of  happiness 
enjoyed  by  the  same  number  of  individuals ;  and 
notwithstanding  that  extren^.e  cases  may  be  found,  of 
human  beings  so  galled  by  the  rigours  of  slavery,  that 
the  increase  of  numbers  is  only  the  amplification  of 
misery;  yet,  within  certain  Hmits,  and  within  those 
limits  to  which  civil  life  is  diversified  under  the  tem- 
perate governments  that  obtain  in  Europe,  it  may  be 


Jgriculture,  and  Commerce,  441 

affirmed,  I  think,  with  certainty,  that  the  quantity  of 
happine-s  produced  in  any  given  district,  so  far  de- 
pends u,  on  the  number  of  inhabitants,  that  in  com- 
paring adjoining  periods  in  the  same  country,  the 
collective  happiues  will  be  nearly  in  the  exact  pro- 
portion of  the  numbers,  that  is,  twice  the  number  of 
inhabitants,  will  produce  double  the  quantity  of  hap- 
piness ;  in  distant  periods,  and  different  countries, 
under  great  changes  or  great  dissimilitude  of  civil 
condition,  although  the  proportion  of  enjoyment 
may  fall  much  short  of  that  of  the  numbers,  yet  still 
any  considerable  excess  of  numbers  will  usually  carry 
with  it  a  preponderation  of  happiness  ;  that,  at  least, 
it  may,  and  ought  to  be  assumed  in  all  political  de- 
liberations, that  a  larger  portion  of  happiness  is  en- 
joyed amongst  ten  persons,  possessing  the  means  of 
healthy  subsistence,  than  can  be  produced  hy  Jive  per- 
sons, under  every  advantage  of  power,  affluence,  and 
luxury. 

From  these  principles  it  fi^illows,  that  the  quantity 
cf  happiness  in  a  given  district,  although  it  is  possible 
it  may  be  increased,  the  number  of  inhabitants  re- 
maining the  same,  is  chiefly  and  most  naturally  af- 
fecied  by  alteration  of  the  numbers  :  that,  conse- 
quently, the  decay  of  population  is  the  greatest  evil 
that  a  state  can  suffer  ;  and  the  improvement  of  it  the 
object  which  ought,  in  all  countries,  to  be  aimed  at  in 
preference  to  every  other  political  purpose  whatsoever. 

The  importance  of  population,  and  the  superiority 
of  it  to  every  other  national  advantage,  are  points 
necessary  to  be  inculcated,  and  to  be  understood  ;  in- 
asmuch <is  false  estimates,  or  fantastic  notions  of  na- 
tional grandeur,  are  perpetually  drawing  the  attention 
of  statesmen  and  legislators  from  the  care  of  this, 
which  is,  at  all  times,  the  true  and  absolute  interest  of 
a  country :  for  which  reason,  we  have  stated  these 
points  with  unusual  formality.  We  will  confess, 
however,  that  a  competition  can  seldom  arise  between 
the  advancement  of  population  and  any  measure  of 
sober  utility  ;  because,  in  the  ordinary  progress  of 
human  affairs,  whatever,  in  any  way,  contributes  to 


442  Of  Population,  Provision^ 

make  a  people  happier,  tends  to  render  them  mord 
numerous. 

In  the  fecundity  of  the  human,  as  of  ever  other 
species  of  animals,  nature  has  provided  for  an  indefi- 
nite multiplication.  Mankind  have  increased  to  their 
present  number  from  a  single  pair  :  the  offspring  of 
early  marriages,  in  the  ordinary  course  of  procrea- 
tion, do  more  than  replace  the  parents  i  in  countries, 
and  under  circumstances  very  favourable  to  subsist- 
ence, the  population  has  been  doubled  in  the  space  of 
twenty  year:  ;  the  havoc  occasioned  by  wars,  earth- 
quakes, famine,  or  pestilence,  is  usually  repaired  in  a 
short  time.  These  indications  suiiiciently  demon- 
strate the  tendency  of  nature  in  the  human  ^pecie.s  to 
a  continual  increase  of  its  numbers.  It  become.s  there- 
fore a  question  that  may  reasonably  be  propounded, 
what  are  the  causes  which  confine  or  check  the  nat- 
ural progress  of  this  multiplication  ?  and  the  answer 
which  first  presents  itself  to  the  thoughts  of  the  in-- 
quirer  is,  that  the  population  of  a  country  must  stop 
when  the  country  can  maintain  no  more,  that  is, 
when  the  inhabitants  are  already  so  numerous  as  to 
exhaust  all  the  provision  which  the  soil  can  be  made 
to  produce.  This,  however,  though  an  insuperable 
bar,  will  seldom  be  found  to  be  that  which  actually 
checks  the  progress  of  population  in  any  country  of 
the  world  ;  because  the  number  of  the  people  have 
seldom,  in  any  country,  arrived  at  this  limit,  or  even 
approached  to  it.  The  fertility  of  the  ground,  in 
temperate  regions,  is  capable  of  being  improved  by 
cultivation  to  an  extent  which  is  unknown  :  much, 
however,  heyoud  the  state  of  improvement  in  any 
country  in  Europe.  In  our  own,  which  holds  almost 
the  first  place  in  the  knowledge  and  encouragement 
of  agriculture,  let  it  only  be  supposed  that  every  field 
in  En^rland  of  the  same  original  quality  with  those  in 
the  neighbourhood  ^^f  the  metropolis,  and  consequent- 
ly capable  of  the  same  fertility,  were  by  a  like  man- 
agement made  to  yield  an  equal  produce  ;  and  it  may 
be  asserted,  I  believe,  with  truth,  that  the  quantity 
of  human  provivsion  raised  in  the  island  would  be  in. 


Jgrkulture,  and  Commerce,  443 

creased  five  fold.  The  two  principles,  therefore,  up- 
on which  population  seem  primarily  to  dep<nd,  the 
fecundity  of  the  species,  and  the  capacity  of  the  soil, 
would  in  most,  perhaps  in  all  countries,  eniible  ii  to 
proceed  much  farther  than  it  has  yet  advanced.  The 
number  of  marriageable  women,  who,  in  each  coun- 
try, remain  unmarried,  afford  a  computation  hov/ 
much  the  agency  of  natur  ^  in  the  diffusion  of  human 
life  is  cramped  and  contracted ;  and  the  quannty  of 
waste,  neglected,  or  mismanaged  surrh<e — together 
with  a  comparison,  like  the  preceding,  ot  the  crops 
raided  from  the  soil  in  the  neighbourhood  of  populous 
cities,  and  under  a  perfect  state  of  cultivation,  with 
those  which  lands  of  equal  or  superior  quality  yield 
in  different  situations — will  shew  in  what  proportion 
the  indigenous  productions  of  the  earth  are  capable  of 
being  farther  augmented. 

The  fundamental  proposition  upon  the  subject  of 
-population^  which  mu5>t  guide  every  endeavour  to  im- 
prove it,  and  from  which  every  conclusion  concern- 
ing it  may  be  deduced,  is  this  :  "  Wherever  the  com- 
merce between  the  sexes  is  regulated  by  marriage,  and 
a  provision  for  that  mode  of  subsistence,  to  which  e-ich 
class  of  the  community  is  accustomed,  can  be  procur- 
ed with  ease  and  certainty,  there  the  number  of  the 
people  will  increase  ;  and  the  rapidity,  as  well  as  the 
extent  of  the  increa  e,  will  be  proportioned  to  the 
degree  in  which  these  causes  exist." 

This  proposition  we  will  draw  out  into  the  several 
principles  which  it  contains. 

I.  First,  the  proposition  asserts  the  "  necessity  of 
confining  the  intercourse  of  the  sexes  to  the  marriage 
union."  It  is  only  in  the  marriage  union  that  this  in- 
tercourse is  sufficiently  prolific.  Beside  which,  fam- 
ily establishments  alone  are  fitted  to  perpetuate  a  suc- 
cession of  generations.  The  offspring  of  a  vague 
and  promiscuous  concubinage  are  not  only  few,  and 
liable  to  perish  by  neglect,  but  are  seldom  prepared 
for,  or  introduced  into  situations  suited  to  the  rais- 
ing of  families  of  their  own.  Hence  the  advantage?. 
of  marriage.    Now  nature,  in  the  constitution  of  the 


444'  Of  Population^  Frovision^ 

sexes,  has  provided  a  stimulus  which  will  infallibly 
secure  the  frequency  of  marriages,  with  all  their  ben- 
eficial effects  upon  the  state  of  population,  provided 
the  male  part  of  the  species  be  prohibited  from  ir- 
regular gratifications.  This  impulse,  which  is  suffi- 
cient to  surmount  almost  every  impedinient  to  mar- 
riage, will  operate  in  proportion  to  the  difficulty,  ex- 
pense, danger,  or  infamy,  the  sense  of  gui't,  or  the 
fear  of  puni.^hment,  which  attend  licentious  indul- 
gencies.  Wherefore,  in  countries  in  which  subsist- 
ence is  become  scarce,  it  behoves  .the  state  to  watch 
over  the  public  morals  with  increased  solicitude  :  for 
nothing  but  the  instinct  of  naiure,  under  the  rcstrint 
of  chastity,  will  induce  men  to  undertake  the  labour, 
or  consent  to  the  sacrifice  of  personal  hberty  and  in- 
dulgence, which  the  support  of  a  family,  in  such  cir- 
cumstances, requires. 

11.  The  second  requisite  which  our  proposition 
states,  as  necessary  to  the  succe-^-^  of  popularion,  is, 
"  The  ease  and  certainty  with  which  a  provi.vion  can 
be  procured  for  that  mode  of  subsistence  to  which 
each  class  of  the  community  is  accustomed."  It  is 
not  enough  that  men's  natural  wants  be  supplied, 
that  a  provision  adequate  to  the  real  exigencies  of 
human  life  be  attainable:  habitual  superfluities  be- 
come actual  wants  ;  opinion  and  fasliion  convert  ar- 
ticles of  ornament  and  luxury  into  necessaries  of  life. 
And  it  must  not  be  expected  from  men  in  general,  at 
least  in  the  present  relaxed  state  of  morals  and  disci- 
pline, that  they  will  enter  into  marriages  which  de- 
grade their  condition,  reduce  their  mode  of  living, 
deprive  them  cf  the  accommodations  to  which  they 
have  been  accustomed,  or  even  of  those  ornaments  or 
appendages  of  rank  and  station,  which  they  have  been 
taught  to  regard  as  belonging  to  their  birth,  or  class, 
or  profession,  or  place  in  society.  The  same  consid- 
eration, namely,  a  view  to  their  accmtomed  mode  of 
life,  which  is  so  apparent  in  the  superior  orders  of 
the  people,  has  no  less  influence  upon  those  ranks 
which  compose  the  mass  of  the  community.  The 
kind  and   quality   of  food  and  liquor,  the  species  of 


Agriculture,  and  Commerce,  445 

habitation,  furniture,  and  clothing,  to  which  the 
common  people  of  each  country  are  habituated,  must 
be  attainable  with  ease  and  certainty  before  marriages 
will  be  sufficiently  early  and  general  to  carry  the  pro- 
gress of  population  to  irs  just  extent.  It  is  in  vain  to 
allege,  that  a  more  simple  diet,  ruder  habitations,  or 
coarser  apparel,  would  be  sufficient  for  the  purposes 
of  life  and  health,  or  even  of  physical  ease  and  pleas- 
ure. Men  wUl  not  marry  with  this  encouragement. 
For  instance,  when  the  common  people  of  a  country 
are  accustomed  to  eat  a  large  proportion  of  animal 
food,  to  drink  wine,  spirits,  or  beer,  to  wear  shoes 
and  stockings,  to  dwell  in  stone  houses,  they  will  not 
marry  to  live  in  clay  cottages,  upon  roots  and  milk, 
with  no  other  clothing  than  skins,  or  what  is  neces- 
sary to  defend  the  trunk  of  the  body  from  the  effects 
of  cold  ;  although  these  last  may  be  all  that  the  sus- 
tentation  of  life  and  health  requires,  or  that  even  trib- 
ute much  to  animal  comfort  and  enjoyment. 

The  ease  then,  and  certainty,  with  which  the  means 
can  be  procured,  not  barely  of  subsistence,  but  of  that 
mode  of  subsisting  which  custom  hath  in  each  coun- 
try established,  form  the  point  upon  which  the  state 
and  progress  of  population  chiefly  depend.  Now, 
there  are  three  causes  which  evidently  regulate  this 
point.  The  mode  itself  of  subsisting  which  prevails 
in  the  country  ;  the  quantity  of  provision  suited  to 
that  mode  of  subsistence,  which  is  either  raised  in  the 
country,  or  imported  into  it ;  and  lastly,  the  distri- 
bution of  that  provision. 

These  three  causes  merit  distinct  considerations. 

I.  The  mode  of  living  which  actually  obtains  in  a 
country.  In  China,  where  the  inhabitants  frequent 
the  sea  shore,  or  the  banks  of  large  rivers,  and  sub- 
sist in  a  great  measure  upon  fish,  the  population  is 
described  to  be  excessive.  This  peculiarity  arises,  not 
probably  from  any  civil  advantages,  any  care  or  pol- 
icy, any  particular  constitution  or  superior  Vv'isdom  of 
government ;  but  simply  from  hence,  that  the  species 
of  food  to  which  custom  hath  reconciled  the  desires 
and  inclinations  of  the  inhabitants,  »s  that  which,  of 


416  Of  Population^  Provision, 

all  others,  is  procured  in  the  greatest  abundance,  with 
the  most  ease,  and  stands  in  need  of  the  least  prepa- 
ration. The  natives  of  Indostan  being  confined,  by 
the  laws  of  their  religion,  to  the  use  of  vegetable  food, 
and  requiring  little  except  rice,  which  th.^  country 
produces  in  plentiful  crops  ;  and  food,  in  warm  cli- 
mates, composing  the  only  want  of  life ;  these  coun- 
tries are  populous,  under  all  the  injuries  of  a  despotic, 
and  the  agitations  of  an  unsettled  government.  If 
any  revolution,  or  what  would  be  called  perhaps  re- 
finement of  manners,  should  generate  in  these  people 
a  taste  for  the  fle  h  of  animals,  similar  to  what  pre- 
vails amongst  the  Arabian  hordes  ;  should  introduce 
flocks  and  herds  into  grounds  which  are  now  cover- 
ed with  corn  ;  should  teach  them  to  account  a  cer- 
tain portion  of  thi^,  species  of  food  amongst  the  neces- 
saries of  life  ;  the  pcpclrtiun,  from  this  single  change, 
would  suffer  in  a  few  years  a  great  diminution  :  and 
this  diminution  vv^ouM  follow,  in  spite  of  every  eflbrt 
of  the  laws,  or  even  of  any  improvement  that  might 
take  place  in  their  civil  condition.  In  Ireland,  the 
simplicity  of  living  alone  maintains  a  considerable  de- 
gree of  population,  under  great  defects  of  police,  in- 
dustry, and  commerce. 

Under  this  head,  and  from  a  view  of  these  consid- 
erations may  be  understood  the  true  evil  and  proper 
danger  oi  luxury.  Luxury,  as  it  supplies  employment 
and  promotes  industry  assists  population.  But  then, 
there  is  another  consequence  attending  it,  which  coun- 
teracts, and  often  overbalances  these  advantages. 
When,  by  introducing  more  superfluities  into  gene- 
ral reception,  luxury  has  rendered  the  usual  accom- 
modations of  life  more  expensive,  artificial,  and  elab- 
orate, the  difficulty  of  maintaining  a  family,  conform- 
ably with  the  established  mode  of  living,  becomes 
greater,  and  what  each  man  has  to  spare  from  his 
personal  consumption  proportionably  less  :  the  effect 
of  which  is,  that  marriages  grow  less  frequent,  agree- 
ably to  the  maxim  above  laid  down,  and  which  must 
be  remembered  as  the  foundation  of  all  our  reason- 
ing upon  the  subject,  that  men  will  not  marry  to  sink 


.    Jgriculture,  and  Commerce,  447 

their  place  or  condition  in  society,  or  to  forego  those 
indulgences,  which  their  own  habits,  or  what  they 
observe  amongst  their  equals,  have  rendered  necessary 
to  their  satisfaction.  This  principle  is  applrcable  to 
every  article  of  diet  and  dress,  to  houses,  furniture, 
attendance ;  and  this  effect  will  be  felt  in  every  class 
of  the  community.  For  in  tance,  the  custom  of 
Wearing  broad-cloth  and  fine  linen  repays  the  shep- 
herd and  flax-grower,  feeds  the  manufacturer,  en- 
riches the  m'jrchant,  gives  not  only  upport  but  ex- 
istence to  multitudes  of  families  :  hitherto,  therefore, 
the  effects  are  beneficial ;  and  were  th.-se  the  only  ef- 
fects, such  elegancies,  or,  if  you  phase  to  call  them  so, 
such  luxuries,  could  not  be  too  universal.  But  here 
follows  the  mischief :  when  once  fashion  hath  annex- 
ed the  use  of  these  articles  nf  dress  to  any  certain 
cla  :>,  the  middling  ranks,  for  example,  of  the  com- 
munity, each  individual  of  that  rank  finds  them  to 
be  necessaries  of  life  ;  that  is,  find.<  himself  obliged  to 
comply  with  the  txample  of  his 'equals,  and  to  main- 
tain that  appearance  which  the  custom  of  society  re- 
quires. This  obligation  creates  such  a  demand  upon 
his  income,  and  withal  adds  so  much  to  the  cost  and 
burthen  of  a  family,  as  to  put  it  out  of  his  power  to 
marry,  with  the  prospect  of  continuing  his  habits,  or 
of  maintaining  hi-  place  and  situation  in  the  world. 
We  see,  in  this  description,  the  cause  which  induces 
men  to  waste  their  lives  in  a  barren  celibacy  ;  and 
this  cause,  which  impairs  the  very  source  of  popula- 
tion, is  justly  placed  Xo  the  account  of  luxury. 

It  appears,  then,  that  luxury,  considered  with  a 
view  to  population,  acts  by  two  oppo.site  effects  ;  and 
it  seems  probable  that  there  exists  a  point  in  the  scale, 
to  which  luxury  may  ascend,  or  tc  which  the  wants 
of  mankind  may  be  multiplied  with  advantage  to 
the  community,  and  beyond  which  the  prejudicial 
consequences  begin  to  preponderate.  The  determina- 
tion of  this  point,  though  it  assume  the  form  of  an 
arithmetical  problem,  depends  upon  circumstances 
too  numerous,  intricate,  and  undefined j  to  admit  of 
a  precise  solution.  However,  from  what  has  been 
III 


44f8  Of  Population^  PrG'Visio7t, 

observed  concerning  the  tendency  of  luxury  to  di- 
minish marriages,  in  which  tendency  the  evil  of  it 
resides,  the  following  general  conclusions  may  be 
establii-hed. 

1st.  That,  of  different  kinds  of  luxury,  those  are 
the  most  innocent,  which  afford  employment  to  the 
greatest  number  of  artists  and  manufacturers  ;  or 
those,  in  other  words,  in  which  the  price  of  the  work 
bears  the  greatest  proportion  to  that  of  the  raw  ma- 
terial. Thus,  luxury  in  dress  or  furniiure  is  univer- 
sally preferable  to  luxury  in  eating,  because  the  arti- 
cles which  constitute  the  one,  are  more  the  produc- 
tion of  human  art  and  industry,  than  those  which  sup- 
ply the  other, 

2dly.  That  it  is  the  diffusion,  rather  than  the  de- 
gree  of  luxury,  Avhich  is  to  be  dreaded  as  a  national 
evil.  The  mischief  of  luxury  consists,  as  we  have 
seen,  in  the  obstruction  whith  it  forms  to  marriage. 
Now,  it  is  only  a  small  part  of  the  people  that  the 
higher  ranks  in  any  country  compose  ;  for  which 
reason,  the  faciUty  or  the  difficulty  of  supporting  the 
expense  of  their  station,  and  the  consequent  increase 
or  diminution  of  marriages  among  them,  will  influ- 
ence the  state  of  population  but  little.  So  long  as 
the  prevalency  of  luxury  is  confined  to  a  few  of  ele- 
vated rank,  much  of  the  benefit  is  felt,  and  little  of 
the  inconveniency.  But  when  the  imitation  of  the 
same  manners  descends,  as  it  always  will  do,  into  the 
mass  of  the  people  ;  when  it  advances  the  requisites 
of  living  beyond  what  it  adds  to  men's  abilities  to 
purchase  them,  then  it  is  that  luxury  checks  the  for- 
mation of  families,  in  a  degree  that  ought  to  alarm 
the  public  fears. 

3dly.  That  the  condition  most  favourable  to  pop- 
ulation is  that  of  a  laborious^  frugal  people,  minister- 
ing to  the  demands  of  an  opulent,  luxurious  nation  ; 
because  this  situation,  whilst  it  leaves  them  every 
advantage  of  luxury,  exempts  them  from  the  evils 
which  naturally  accompany  its  admission  into  any 
country. 


Agriculture,  and  Commerce.  449 

il.     Next  to  the  mode  of  living,  we  are  to  Gon- 
sider  "  the  quantity  of  provision  suited  to  that  mode, 
which  is  either  raised  in  the  country,  or  imported  in- 
to it  :**  for  this  is  the  order  in  which  we  assigned  the 
causes  of  population,  and  undertook  to  treat  of  them. 
Now,  if  we  measure  the  quantity  of  provision  by  the 
number  of  human  bodies  it  will  support  in  due  health 
and  vigour,  this  quantity,  the  extent  and  quality  of 
the  soil  from  which  it  is  raised  being  given,  will  de- 
pend greatly  upon  the  khid.     For  instance,  a  piece  of 
ground  capable  of  supplying  animal   food  sufficient 
tor  the  subsistence  of  ten  persons,  would  sustain,  at 
least,  the  double  of  that  number  with  grain,  roots, 
and  milk.     The  first  resource  of  savage  life  is  in  the 
flesh  of  wild  animals  :  hence  the  numbers  amongst 
savage  nations,  compared  with  the  tract  of  country 
which  they  occupy,  are  universally  small  ;  because 
this  species  of  provision  is,  of  all  others,  supplied  in 
the  slenderest  proportion.     The  next  step   was  the 
invention  of  pasturage,  or  the  rearing  of  flocks  and 
herds  of  tame  animals :  this  alteration  added  to  the 
stock  of  provision  much.     But  the  last  and  principal 
improvement  was  to  follow  ;  namely,  tillage,  or  the 
artificial    production  of  corn,   esculent   plants,   and 
roots.     This  discovery,  whilst  it  changed  the  quality 
of  human   food,    augmented  the  quantity  in   a  vast 
proportion.     So  far  as  the  state  of  population  is  gov- 
erned and  limited  by  the  quantity  of  provision,  per- 
haps there  is  no  single  cause  that  aifects  it  so  powerful- 
ly, as  the  kind  and  quality  of  food  which  chance  or 
usage  hath  intioduced  into  a  country.     In  England, 
notwithstanding  the  produce  of  the  soil  has  been,  of 
late,  considerably  increased,  by  the  inclosure  of  wastes, 
and  the  adoption,  in  many  places,  of  a  more  success- 
ful husbandry,  yet  we  do  not  observe  a  corresponding 
addition  to  the  number  of  inhabitants  ;  the  reason  of 
which  appears  to  me  to  be  the  more  general  con- 
sumption of  animal  food  amongst  us.     Many  ranks 
of  people  whose  ordinary  diet  was,  in  the  last  centu- 
ry, prepared  almost  entirely  from  milk,  roots,  and 
vegetables,  now  require  every  day  a  considerable  por« 


4f50  Of  Population,  Provisioriy 

tion  of  the  flesh  of  animaU.  Hence  a  great  part  of 
the  richest  lands  of  the  country  are  converted  to 
pasturage.  Much  also  of  the  bread  corn,  which  went 
directly  to  the  nourishment  of  human  bodies,  new 
only  contributes  to  it  by  fattening  the  flesh  of  sheep 
and  oxen.  The  mass  and  volume  of  provisions  are 
hereby  diminished ;  and  what  is  gained  m  the  me- 
lioration of  the  soil,  is  lost  in  the  quality  of  the  pro- 
duce. Thir  consideration  teaches  us,  that  tillage,  as 
an  object  of  national  care  and  encouragement,  is  uni- 
versally preferable  to  pasturage  ;  because  the  kind  of 
provision  which  it  yields  goes  much  farther  in  the  sus- 
tentation  of  human  life.  Tillage  is  also  recommend- 
ed by  this  additional  advantage,  that  it  affords  em- 
ployment to  a  much  more  numerous  pea  ^ntry.  In- 
deedj  pasturage  seem^  to  be  the  art  of  a  nation,  either 
imperfectly  civilized,  as  are  many  of  the  tribes  which 
cultivate  it  in  the  internal  parts  of  Asia  ;  or  of  a  na- 
tion, like  Spain,  declining  from  its  summit  by  luxu-*' 
ry  and  inactivity. 

The  kind  and  quality  of  provision,  together  with 
the  extent  and  capacity  of  the  soil  from  which  it  is 
raised,  being  the  same ;  the  quantity  procured  will 
principally  depend  upon  two  circumstances,  the  ability 
of  the  occupier,  and  the  encouragement  which  he  re- 
cieves.  The  greatest  misfortune  of  a  country  is  an 
indigent  tenantry.  Whatever  be  the  native  advan- 
tages of  the  soil,  or  even  the  skill  and  industry  of  the 
occupier,  the  want  of  a  sufficient  capital  confines  ev- 
ery plan,  as  w  .11  as  cripples  and  weakens  every  ope- 
ration of  husbandry.  This  evil  is  felt,  where  agricul- 
ture is  accounted  a  servile  or  mean  employment ; 
where  farms  are  extremely  subdivided,  and  badly  fur- 
nished with  habitations ;  where  leases  are  unknown, 
or  are  of  shor'  or  precarious  duration.  With  revSpect 
to  the  encouragejnent  of  husbandry  ;  in  this,  as  in  ev- 
ery other  employment,  the  true  reward  of  industry 
is  in  the  pnt'  and  sale  of  the  produce.  The  exclu- 
sive right  to  the  produce  is  the  only  incitement 
•which  acts  constantly  and  universally  ;  the  only  spring 
which  keeps  human  labour  in  motion.    Ail  therefore 


Jgriculiure,  and  Commerce,  45 1 

that  the  laws  can  do,  is  to  secure  this  right  to  the  oc- 
cupier of  the  ground,  that  is,  to  constitute  such  a  sy«- 
teni,  of  tenure,  that  the  full  and  entire  advantage  of 
every  improvement  go  to  the  benefit  of  the  improv- 
er ;  that  every  man  work  for  himself,  and  not  for 
another  j  and  that  no  one  share  in  the  profit  who 
does  not  assist  in  the  production.  By  the  occupier  I 
here  mean,  not  so  much  the  person  who  pei  forms 
the  work,  as  him  who  procures  the  labour  and  directs 
the  management  :  and  I  consider  the  whole  profit  as 
received  by  the  occupier,  when  the  occupier  is  bene- 
fitted by  the  whole  value  of  what  is  produced,  which 
is  the  case  with  the  tenant  who  pays  a  fixed  rent  for 
the  use  of  land,  no  less  than  vi^ith  the  proprietor  who 
holds  it  as  his  own.  The  one  ha^  the  same  interest 
in  the  produce,  and  iu  the  advantage  of  every  im- 
provement, as  the  other.  Likewise  the  proprietor, 
though  he  grant  out  hi^  estate  to  farm,  may  be  con- 
sidered as  the  occupier^  in  so  much  as  he  regulates  the 
occupation  by  the  choice,  superintendency,  and  en- 
couragement of  his  tenants,  by  the  disposition  of  his 
lands  by  erecting  building!^,  providing  accommoda- 
tions, by  prescribing  condiiions,  or  supplying  imple- 
ments and  matorials  of  improvement  ;  and  is  enti- 
tled, by  the  rule  of  public  expediency  above  mention- 
ed, to  receive,  in  the  advance  of  his  I'ent,  a  share  of 
the  benefit  which  arises  from  the  increased  produce  of 
his  estate.  The  violation  of  this  fundamental  m  ixitii 
of  agrarian  policy  constitutes  the  chief  objection  to 
the  holding  of  lands  by  the  state,  by  the  king,  by  cor- 
porate bodies,  by  private  persons  in  right  of  their  of- 
fices or  benefices.  The  inconveniency  to  the  public 
arises  not  so  much  from  the  unalienable  quality  of 
lands  thus  holden  in  perpetuity,  as  from  hence,  that 
proprietors  of  this  description  seldom  contribute 
much  either  of  attention  or  expense  to  the  cultiva- 
tion of  their  estates,  yet  claim,  by  the  rent,  a  share  in 
the  profit  of  every  improvement  that  is  made  upon 
them,  1.  his  complaint  can  only  be  obviated  by  "  long 
leases  at  a  i.xed  rent,"  which  convey  a  large  portion 
of  the  interest  to  those  who  actually  conduct  the  cuU 


4.52  Of  Population,  Provision, 

tivation.  The  same  objection  is  applicable  to  the 
holding  of  lands  by  foreign  proprietors,  and  in  some 
degrees  to  estates  of  too  great  extent  being  placed  in 
the  same  hands. 

III.  Beside  the  production  of  provision,  there  re- 
mains to  be  considered  the  distribution. — It  is  in 
vain  that  provisions  abound  in  the  country,  unless  I 
be  able  to  obtain  a  share  of  them.  This  reflection 
belongs  to  every  individual.  The  plenty  of  provision 
produced,  the  quantity  of  the  public  stock,  affords 
subsistence  to  individuals,  and  encouragement  to  the 
formation  of  families,  only  in  proportion  as  it  is  dis- 
tributed, that  is,  in  proportion  as  these  individuals  are 
allowed  to  draw  from  it  a  supply  of  their  own  wants. 
The  distribution,  therefore,  becomes  of  equal  conse- 
quence to  population  with  the  production.  Now, 
there  is  but  one  principle  of  distribution  that  can 
ever  become  universal,  namely,  the  principle  of  "  ex- 
change ;"  or,  in  other  words,  that  every  man  have 
something  to  give  in  return  for  what  he  wants. 
Bounty,  however  it  may  come  in  aid  of  another 
principle,  however  it  may  occasionally  qualify  the 
rigour,  or  supply  the  imperfection  of  an  established 
rule  of  distribution,  can  never  itself  become  that  rule 
or  principle  ;  because  men  will  not  work  to  give  the 
produce  of  their  labour  away.  Moreover,  the  only 
equivalents  that  can  be  offered  in  exchange  for  pro- 
vision, are  power  and  laboiir.  All  property  is  power. 
What  we  call  property  in  land  is  the  power  to  use 
it,  and  to  exclude  others  from  the  use.  Money  is 
the  representative  of  power,  because  it  is  converti- 
ble into  power  :  the  value  of  it  consists  in  its  faculty 
of  procuring  power  over  things  and  persons.  But 
power  wliich  results  from  civil  conventions,  and  of 
this  kind  is  what  we  call  a  man's  fortune  or  estate, 
is  necessarily  confined  to  a  few,  and  is  withal  soon 
exhausted  :  whereas  the  capacity  of  labour  is  every 
man's  natural  possession,  and  composes  a  constant  and 
renewing  fund.  The  hire,  therefore,  or  produce  of 
personal  industry,  is  that  which  the  bulk  of  every 
community  must  bring  to  market,  in  exchange  foi- 


Agriculture,  and  Commerce.  43  S 

the  means  of  subsistence  ;  in  other  words,  employ- 
ment must,  in  every  country,  be  the  medium  of  dis- 
tribution, and  the  source  of  supply  to  individuals. 
But  when  we  consider  the  production  and  distribution 
of  provision,  as  distinct  from,  and  independent  of 
each  other ;  when,  supposing  the  same  quantity  to 
be  produced,  we  enquire  in  what  v^ay,  or  according 
to  what  rule,  it  may  be  distributed,  we  are  led  to  a 
conception  of  the  subject  not  at  all  agreeable  to  truth 
and  reality  ;  for,  in  truth  and  reality,  though  provis- 
ion must  be  produced  before  it  be  distributed,  yet 
the  production  depends,  in  a  great  measure,  upon  the 
distribution.  The  quantity  of  provision  raised  out  of 
the  ground,  so  far  as  the  raising  of  it  requires  human 
art  or  labour,  will  evidently  be  regulated  by  the  de- 
mand ;  the  demand,  or,  in  other  words,  the  price 
and  sale,  being  that  which  alone  rewards  the  care,  or 
excites  the  diUgence  of  the  husbandman.  But  the 
sale  of  provision  depends  upon  the  number,  not  of 
those  who  want,  but  of  those  who  have  something  to 
offer  in  return  for  what  they  want ;  not  of  those  who 
would  consume,  but  of  those  who  can  buy  ;  that  is, 
upon  the  number  of  those  who  have  the  fruits  of 
some  other  kind  of  industry  to  tender  in  exchange 
for  what  they  stand  in  need  of  from  the  production 
of  the  soil. 

We  see,  therefore,  the  connexion  between  popula- 
tion and  ernploymcnt.  Employment  affects  population 
"  directly,"  as  it  affords  the  only  medium  of  distri- 
bution by  which  individuals  can  obtain  from  the 
common  stock  a  supply  for  the  wants  of  their  fami- 
lies :  it  affects  population  "  indirecty,"  as  it  aug- 
ments the  stock  itself  of  provision,  in  the  only  way 
by  which  the  production  of  it  can  be  effectually  en- 
couraged, by  furnishing  purchasers.  No  man  can 
purchase  without  an  equivalent ;  and  that  equivalent, 
by  the  generality  of  the  people,  must  in  every  country 
be  derived  from  employment. 

And  upon  this  basis  is  founded  the  public  benefit 
c\{  trade,  that  is  tOiSay,  its  subserviency  to  population, 
m  which  its   onlv   real  utilitv  consists.     Of  that  in- 


454  Of  Vopulatwiy  Provisidnf 

dustry  and  of  those  arts  and  branches  of  tfadet 
which  are  employed  in  the  production,  conveyance, 
and  preparation  of  any  principal  species  of  human 
food,  as  of  the  business  of  the  husbandman,  the 
butcher,  baker,  brewer,  corn -merchant,  &c.  we  ac- 
knowledge the  necessity  :  likewise  of  those  manufac- 
tures which  furnish  us  with  warm  clothing,  conve- 
nient habitations,  domestic  utensils,  as  of  the  weaver, 
taylor,  smith,  carpenter,  &c.  we  perceive  (in  cHmates, 
however,  like  ours,  removed  at  a  distance  from  the 
sun,  the  conduciveness  to  population,  by  their  ren- 
dering human  life  more  healthy,  vigorous,  and  com'> 
fortable.  But  not  one  half  of  the  occupations  which 
compose  the  trade  of  Europe,  fall  within  either  of 
these  descriptions.  Perhaps  two  thirds  of  the  manu- 
facturers in  England  are  employed  upon  articles  of 
confessed  luxury,  ornament,  or  splendor  :  in  the  su- 
perfluous embellishment  of  some  articles  which  are 
useful  in  their  kind,  or  upon  others  which  have  no 
conceivable  use  or  value,  but  what  is  founded  in  ca- 
price or  fa-hion.  What  can  be  less  necessary,  or  less 
connected  with  the  sustentation  of  human  life,  than 
the  whole  produce  of  the  silk,  lace,  and  plate  manu- 
factory ?  Yet  what  multitudes  labour  in  the  different 
branches  of  these  arts  !  What  can  be  imagined  more 
capricious  than  the  fondness  for  tobacco  and  snuff? 
Yet  bow  many  various  occupations,  and  how  many 
thousands  in  each,  are  set  at  work  in  administering 
to  this  frivolous  gratification !  Concerning  trades  of 
this  kind,  (and  this  kind  comprehends  more  than 
half  of  the  trades  that  are  exercised)  it  may  fairly  be 
asked,  "  How,  since  they  add.  nothing  to  the  stock  of 
provision,  do  they  tend  to  increase  the  number  of  the 
people  ?"  We  are  taught  to  say  of  trade,  "  that  it 
maintains  multitudes  -,'*  but  by  what  means  docs  it 
■maintain  them,  when  it  produces  nothing  upon  which 
the  support  of  hum^n  life  depends  ? — In  like  manner 
with  respect  to  foreign  commerce  ;  of  that  merchan- 
dize whicli  bri-ngs  the  necessaries  of  life  into  a  coun- 
try, which  imports,  for  example,  corn,  or  cattle,  or 
clod),  or  fuel,  we  allow  the  tendency  to  advance  pop- 


Agriculture^  and  Commerce,  455 

ulation,  because  it  increases  the  stock  of  provision  by 
which  the  people  are  sub  isted.  But  this  eff.  ct  of 
foreign  commerce  is  .^o  little  seen  in  our  own  country, 
that,  I  believe,  it  may  be  affirmed  of  Great  Britain, 
what  Bishop  Berkley  said  of  a  neighbouring  island, 
that,  if  it  were  encompassed  with  a  wall  of  brass  fiHy 
cubits  high,  the  country  might  maintain  the  same 
number  of  inhabitants  that  find  subsij-tence  in  it  at 
present ;  and  that  every  necessary,  and  even  every 
real  comfort  and  accommodation  of  human  life  might 
be  supplied  in  as  great  abundance  as  they  now  are. 
Here,  therefore,  as  before,  we  may  fairly  ask,  by  what 
operation  it  is,  that  foreign  commerce,  which  brings 
into  the  country  no  more  article  of  human  subsistence, 
promotes  the  multiplication  of  human  life  ? 

The  answer  of  this  inquiry  will    be  contained  in 
the  discussion  of  another  j  viz. 

Since  the  soil  will  maintain  many  more  than  it  can 
employ,  what  must  be  done,  supposing  the  country 
to  be  full,  with  the  remainder  of  the  inhabitants  ? 
They  who,  by  che  rules  of  partition,  (and  some  such 
must  be  established  in  every  country)  are  entitled  to 
the  land  ;  and  they  who,  by  their  labour  upon  the 
soil,  acquire  a  right  in  it^  produce,  will  not  part  with 
their  property  for  nothing ;  or  rather,  they  will  no 
longer  raise  from  the  soil  what  they  can  neither  use 
themselves,  nor  exchange  for  what  they  want.  Or 
lastly,  if  these  were  willing  to  distribute  what  they 
could  spare  of  the  provision  which  the  ground  yield- 
ed, to  others  who  had  no  share  or  concern  in  the 
property  or  cultivation  of  it,  yet  still  the  most  enor- 
mous mischief-^  would  ensue  from  great  numbers  re- 
maining unemployed.  The  idleness  of  one  half  of 
the  community  would  overwhelm  the  whole  with 
confusion  and  disorder.  One  only  way  presents  it- 
self of  removing  the  difficulty  which  this  question 
states,  and  which  is  simply  this  ;  that  they,  whose 
work  is  not  wanted,  nor  can  be  employed  in  the 
raising  of  provision  out  of  the  ground,  convert  their 
hands  and  ingenuity  to  the  fabrication  of  articles 
which  may  gratify  and  requite  those  who  are  so  era- 

K  K  K 


456  Of  Popidaiion,  Pro'viswn, 

ployed,  or  who,  by  the  division  of  lands  in  the  couii- 
try,  are  entitled  to  the  exclusive  possession  of  certain 
parts  of  them.  By  this  contrivance  all  things  pro- 
ceed well.  The  occupier  of  the  ground  raises  from 
it  the  utmost  that  he  can  procure,  because  he  is  re- 
paid for  what  he  can  spare  by  something  else  which 
he  wants,  or  with  which  he  is  pleased  :  the  artist  or 
manufacturer,  though  he  have  neither  any  property 
in  the  soil,  nor  any  concern  in  itJi  cultivation,  is  reg- 
ularly supplied  with  the  produce,  because  he  gives,  in 
exch?ngt  for  what  he  stands  in  need  of,  something 
upon  which  the  receiver  places  an  equal  value :  and 
the  community  is  kept  quiet,  while  both  sides  are  en- 
gaged in  their  respective  occupations. 

It  appears,  then,  that  the  business  of  one  half  of 
mankind  is,  to  set  the  other  half  at  work ;  that  is, 
to  provide  articles  which,  by  tempting  the  desires, 
may  stimulate  the  industry,  and  call  forth  the  ac- 
tivity of  those,  upon  the  exertion  of  whose  indus- 
try, and  the  application  of  whose  faculties,  the  pro- 
duction of  human  provision  depends.  A  certain, 
portion  only  of  human  labour  is,  or  can  be  pro- 
ductive ;  the  rest  is  instrumental— hoih  equally  neces- 
sary, though  the  one  have  no  other  object  than  to  ex- 
cite the  other.  It  appears  also,  that  it  signifies 
nothing  as  to  the  main  purpose  of  trade,  how 
superfluous  the  articles  which  it  furnishes  are;  wheth- 
er the  want  of  them  be  real  or  imagin.ry  ;  wheth- 
er it  be  founded  in  nature  or  in  opinion,  in  fashion, 
habit,  or  emulation  ;  it  is  enough  that  they  be  actu- 
ally desired  and  sought  after.  Flourishing  cities 
are  raised  and  supported  by  trading  in  tobacco  :  pop* 
ulcus  towns  subsist  by  the  manufactory  of  ribbons. 
A  watcli  may  be  a  very  unnecessary  appendage  to 
the  dress  of  a  pt-a^ant  ;  yet  if  the  peasant  will  till  the 
ground  in  order  to  obtain  a  watch,  the  true  design 
of  trade  is  answered  :  and  the  watch-maker,  while 
he  polishes  the  case,  or  files  the  wheels  of  his  ma- 
chine, is  contributing  to  the  production  of  corn  as 
effectually,  *  hough  not  so  directly,  as  if  he  handled 
the  spade,  or  held  the  plough.     The  use  of  tobacco 


Agriculture,  and  Commerce.  457 

has  been  mentioned  already,  not  only  as  an  acknowl- 
edged superfluity,  but  a?  affording  a  remarkable  ex- 
ample oi  the  caprice  of  human  appetite ;  yet,  if  the 
fisherman  will  piy  his  nets,  or  the  mariner  fetch  rice 
from  foreign  countries,  in  order  to  procure  to  himself 
this  indulgence,  the  market  is  supplied  with  two 
important  arllcles  of  provision,  by  the  instrumentality 
of  a  merchandize,  which  has  no  other  apparent  use 
than  the  gratification  of  a  vitiated  palate. 

But  it  may  come  to  pass  that  the  husbandman, 
land-owner,  or  whoever  he  be  that  is  entitled  to  the 
produce  of  the  sod,  v/ill  no  longer  exchange  it  for 
what  the  manufacturer  has  to  offer.  He  is  already 
supplied  to  the  extent  of  his  desires.  For  instance, 
he  wants  no  more  cloth  ;  he  will  no  longer  there- 
fore five  the  weaver  corn,  in  return  for  the  produce  of 
his  looms  ;  but  he  would  readily  give  it  for  tea,  or 
for  wine.  When  the  weaver  finds  this  to  be  the  case, 
he  hjs  nothing  to  do  but  to  send  his  cloth  abroad  in 
exchange  for  tea  or  for  wine,  which  he  may  barter 
for  that  provi  ion  v/hich  the  offer  of  his  cloth  will  no 
longer  procure.  The  circulation  is  thus  revived  ; 
and  the  benefit  of  the  discovery  is,  that,  whereas  the 
number  of  v.eavers,  who  could  find  subsistence  from 
their  employment,  v/as  before  limited  by  the  con- 
sumption of  cloth  in  the  country,  that  number  is  now 
augmented,  in  proportion  to  the  demand  for  tea  and 
for  -wine.  This  is  the  principle  q^forchni  comuierce. 
In  the  magnitude  atid  complexity  of  the  machine, 
the -principle  of  morion  is  sometimes  lost  or  unob- 
serv.^d  ;  but  it  is  always  simple  and  the  same,  to 
whatever  extent  it  may  be  diversified  and  enlarged 
in  its  operation. 

The  effect  of  trade  upon  agriculture,  the  process  of 
which  we  have  been  endeavouring  to  describe,  is  vis- 
ible in  the  neighbourhood  of  tradlm^  towns,  and  in 
those  districts  which  carry  on  a  communication  with 
the  markets  of  trading  towns.  The  husbandmen  are 
busy  and  skillful  :  the  peasantry  laborious ;  the  land 
is  managed  to  the  best  advantage  ;  and  double  the 
quantity  of  corn  or  herbage  (articles  v/hich  are  ulti- 


458  Of  Population^  Provision, 

mately  converted  into  human  provision)  raised  from 
it,  of  what  the  same  soil  yields  in  remoter  and  more 
neglected  parts  of  the  country.  Wherever  a  thri- 
ving manufactory  finds  means  to  establish  itself,  a 
new  vegetation  springs  up  around  it.  I  believe  it  is 
true  that  agriculture  never  arrives  at  any  considera- 
ble, much  less  at  its  highest  degree  of  perfection, 
where  it  is  not  connected  with  trade,  that  is,  where 
the  demand  for  the  produce  is  not  increased  by  the 
consumption  of  trading  cities. 

Let  it  be  remembered  then,  that  agriculture  is  the 
immediate  source  of  human  provision  ;  that  trade 
conduces  to  the  production  of  provision  only  as  it 
promotes  agriculture  ;  that  the  whole  system  of  com- 
merce, vast  and  various  as  it  is,  hath  no  other  public 
importance  than  its  subserviency  to  this  end. 

We  return  to  the  proportion  we  laid  down,  "  that 
employment  universally  promotes  population."  From 
this  proposition  it  follows,  that  the  comparative  util- 
ity of  different  branches  of  national  commerce  is 
measured  by  the  number  which  each  branch  employs. 
Upon  which  principle  a  scale  may  easily  be  construct- 
ed, which  shall  assign  to  the  several  kinds  and  divi- 
sions of  foreign  trade  their  respective  degrees  of  pub- 
lic importance.  In  this  scale  (he first  place  belongs 
to  the  exchange  of  wrought  goods  for  raw  materials, 
as  of  broad-cloth  for  raw  ^ilk  ;  cutlery  for  wool  ; 
clockN  or  watches  for  iron,  flax,  or  furs  ;  because  this 
traffic  provides  a  market  for  the  labour  that  has  al- 
ready been  expended,  at  the  same  time  that  it  sup- 
plies materials  for  new  industry.  Population  always 
flourishes  where  this  species  of  commerce  obtains  to 
any  considerable  degree.  It  is  the  cause  of  employ- 
ment, or  the  certain  indication.  As  it  takes  off  the 
manufactures  of  the  country,  it  promotes  employ- 
ment ;  as  it  brings  in  raw  materials,  it  supposes  the 
existence  of  manufactories  in  the  country,  and  a  de- 
mand for  the  article  when  manufactured. — The  sec- 
ond place  is  due  to  that  commerce,  which  barters  one 
species  of  wrought  goods  for  another,  as  stuffs  for 
calicoes,  fustians  for  cambrics,  leather  for  paper,  or 


Agriculture,  and  Commerce.  Af5^ 

wrought  goods  for  articles  which  require  no  farther 
preparation,  as  for  wine,  oil,  tea,  sugar,  &c.  This 
also  assists  empl(»ymenr ;  because,  when  the  country  is 
stocked  with  one  kind  of  manufacture,  it  renews  the 
demand  by  covtrting  it  into  another :  but  it  is  in- 
ferior to  the  former,  as  it  promotes  this  end  by  one 
side  only  of  the  bargain — by  what  it  carries  out. — 
The  lasi^  the  lowest,  and  mo  t  disadvantageous  species 
of  commerce,  is  the  exportation  of  raw  materials  in 
return  for  wrought  goods ;  as  when  wool  is  sent 
abroad  to  purcha.^e  velvets  ;  hides  or  peltry  to  pro- 
cure -hoes,  hat>^',  or  linen  cloth.  This  trade  is  un- 
favourable to  population,  because  it  leaves  no  room 
or  demand  for  employment,  either  in  what  it  takejj 
out  of  the  country,  or  in  what  it  brings  into  it.  Its 
operation  on  both  sides  is  noxious.  By  its  exports 
it  diminishes  the  very  subject  upon  which  the  indus- 
try of  the  inhabitants  ought  to  be  exercistrd  ;  by  its 
imports  it  lessen*^  tlie  enct)uragement  of  that  indu  try, 
in  the  same  proportion  that  it  upplifs  the  consump- 
tion  of  the  cuntry  with  the  produce  of  foreign  la- 
bour. Of  diflfrLnt  branches  oi  manufociory^  those  are, 
in  their  nature,  the  most  bene,  cial,  in  which  the 
price  of  the  wrought  article  exceeds  in  the  highest 
proportion  that  of  the  raw  material  :  for  this  ex- 
cess measures  the  quantity  of  emf.icyment,  or,  in  oth- 
er words,  the  number  of  maiuih'cturcrs  which  each 
branch  sustains.  The  poduce  of  the  ground  is  never 
the  most  advantageous  article  of  foreign  commerce. 
Under  a  perfect  state  of  public  economy,  the  soil  of 
the  country  jhould  be  applied  solely  to  the  raising  oi 
provision  for  the  inhabitants,  and  its  trade  be  supplied 
by  their  induNtry.  A  nation  will  never  reach  its 
proper  extent  of  population,  so  long  as  its  principal 
commerce  consists  in  the  exportation  of  corn  and  cat- 
tle, or  even  of  wine,  oil,  tobacco,  madder,  indigo, 
timber ;  because  these  last  articles  take  up  that  sur- 
face which  ought  to  be  covered  with  the  materials 
of  human  subsistence. 

It  must  be  here  however  noticed,  that  we  have  all 
along  considered   the   inhabitants   of  a   country   as 


460  GJ  Population^  Provision, 

maintained  by  the  produce  of  the  country  ;  and  that 
what  we  have  said  is  applicable  with  strictness  to  this 
supposition  alone.  The  reasoning,  nevertheless,  may 
easily  be  adapted  to  a  different  case  ;  for  when  pro- 
vision is  not  produced,  but  imported^  what  has  been  af- 
firmed concerning  provision,  will  be,  in  a  great  meas- 
ure, true  of  that  article,  whether  it  be  money,  produce, 
or  labour,  which  is  exchanged  for  provision.  Thus, 
when  the  Dutch  raise  madder,  and  exchange  it  for 
corn  ;  or  when  the  people  of  America  phint  tobacco, 
and  send  it  to  Europe  for  cloth  ;  the  cultivation  of 
madder  and  tobacco  becomes  as  necessary  to  the  sub- 
sistence of  the  inhabitants,  and  by  consequence  will  af- 
fect the  state  of  population  in  these  countries  as  sensi- 
bly, as  the  actual  producdon  of  food,  or  the  manu- 
factory of  raiment.  In  like  manner,  when  the  same 
inhabitants  of  Holland  earn  money  by  the  carria^-e  of 
the  produce  of  one  country  to  another,  and  with  that 
money  purchase  the  provision  from  abroad  which 
their  own  land  is  not  exten^^ive  enough  to  supply,  the 
increase  or  decline  of  this  carrying  trade  will  influ- 
ence the  numbers  of  the  people  no  less  than  similar 
changes  would  do  in  the  cultivation  of  the  soil. 

The  few  principles  already  established  will  enable 
us  to  describe  the  effects  upon  population  which  mav 
be  expected  from  the  following  important  articles  of 
national  conduct  and  economy. 

I.  Emigration.  Emigration  may  be  either  the 
overflowing  of  a  country,  or  the  desertion.  As  the 
increase  of  the  species  is  indefinite  ;  and  the  number 
of  inhabitants,  which  any  given  tract  of  surface  can 
vsupport,  finite  ;  it  is  evident  that  great  numbers  may 
be  constantly  leaving  a  country,  and  yet  the  country 
remain  constantly  full.  Or  whatever  be  the  cause 
which  invincibly  limits  the  population  of  a  country, 
when  the  number  of  the  people  has  arrived  at  that 
limit,  the  progress  of  generation,  beside  continuing 
the  succession,  will  supply  multitudes  for  foreign  emi- 
gration. In  these  two  cases  emigration  neither  indi- 
cates any  political  decay,  nor  in  truth  diminishes  the 
number  of  the  people  j  nor  ought  to  be  prohibited 


Jgrkulture,  and  Commerce,  46  i 

or  discouraged.  But  emigrants  may  relinquish  their 
country  from  a  sense  of  insecurity,  oppression,  an- 
noyance, and  inconveniency.  Neither,  again,  here  is 
it  emigration  which  wastes  the  people,  but  the  evils 
that  occasion  it.  It  would  be  in  vain,  if  it  were  prac- 
ticable, to  confine  the  inhabitants  at  home  ;  for  the 
same  causes  which  drive  them  out  of  the  country, 
would  prevent  their  multiplication  if  they  remained 
in  it.  Lastly,  men  may  be  tempted  to  change  their 
situation  by  the  allurement  of  a  better  climate,  of  a 
more  refined  or  luxurious  manner  of  living  ;  by  the 
prospect  of  wealth  ;  or,  sometimes,  by  the  mere  nom- 
inal advantage  of  higher  wages  and  prices.  This  class 
of  emigrants,  with  whom  alone  the  laws  can  inter- 
fere with  eifect,  will  never,  I  think,  be  numerous. 
With  the  generality  of  a  people,  the  attachment  ot 
mankind  to  their  homes  and  country,  the  irksome- 
ness  of  seeking  new  habitations,  and  of  living  amongst 
strangers,  will  outweigh,  so  long  as  men  possess  the 
necessaries  of  life  in  safety,  or  at  hast  so  long  as  they 
can  obtain  a  provision  for  that  mode  of  subsistence, 
which  the  class  of  citizens  to  which  they  belong  are 
accustomed  to  enjoy,  all  the  inducements  that  the  ad- 
vantages of  a  foreign  land  can  offer.  There  appear^ 
therefore,  to  be  few  cases  in  which  emigration  can 
be  prohibited  with  advantage  to  the  state  ;  it  appears 
also  that  emigration  is  an  equivocal  symptom,  which 
will  probably  accompany  the  decline  of  the  political 
body,  but  which  7nay  likewise  attend  a  condition  o^ 
perfect  health  and  vigour. 

II.  Colon izAiioN.  The  only  view  under  which 
our  subject  will  permit  us  to  consider  colo?2ization,  is  in 
its  tendency  to  augment  the  population  of  the  parent 
state.  Suppose  a  fertile,  but  empty  island,  to'  lie 
within  the  reach  of  a  country,  in  which  arts  and 
manufactures  are  already  established  ;  suppose  a  colo- 
ny set  out  from  such  a  country  to  take  possession  of 
the  island,  and  to  live  there  under  the  protection  and 
authority  of  their  native  government  ;  the  new  set- 
tlers will  naturally  convert  their  labour  to  the  culti- 
vation of  the   vacant  soil,  and  with  the   produce  of 


462  Of  Population,  Pro'jision, 

that  soil,  will  draw  a  supply    of  manufactures   from 
their  counrrymen  at  home.     Whilst  the  inhabitants 
conrinuf  few,  and  the  lands  cheap  and  fresh,  the  col- 
onist>  will  find  it  easier  and  more  profitable  to  raise 
corn,  or  rear  cattle,  and  with  corn  and  cattle,  to  pur- 
chase   wollen    cloth,    for  instance,  or  linen,  than    to 
spin    or  weave  these  articles  for  themselves.      The 
mother  country,   meanwhile,  d-: rives  from  this  con- 
nexion an  increase  both  of  provision  and  employment. 
It  promotes  at    once  the  two   great    requisites,  upon 
which  the  facility  of  subsistence,  and,  by  consequence, 
the  state  of  population,  depend,  production  and  distri- 
bution^ and  this  in  a  manner  the  most  direct  and  bene- 
ficial.    No  situation  can  be  imagined  more  favoura- 
ble   to   population,   than    that    of  a  country    which 
works  up  goods  for    others,   whilst   these  others  are 
cultivating    new    tracts   of   land    for  them.     For  as, 
in  a  genial  climate,  and  from    a  fresh  soil,  the  labour 
of  one  man  will  raise  provision  enough  for  ten,  it  is 
manifest  that,  where  all  are  employed  in  agriculture, 
much  the  greater   part  of  the  produce  will  be  spared 
from  the  consumption ;  and  that  three  out  of  four, 
at  least,  of  those  who  are  maintained  by  it,  will  reside 
in    the     country    which    receives    the    redundancy. 
When  the  new    country    does  not    remit  provision  to 
the  old  one,  the  advantage  Is  less  ;  but  still  the  expor- 
tation   of  wrought  goods,    by  whatever   return  they 
are  paid  for,  advances  population   in  that  secondary 
way,  in  which  those    trades    promote   it  that  are   not 
employed  in  the  production  of  provision.     Whatever 
prejudice,  therefore,  some    late   events    have  excited 
against  schemes  of  colonization,  the  system  itself  is 
founded    in  apparent    national  utility  ;  and  what   is 
more,  upon  principles  favourable  to  the  common  in- 
terest of  human  nature  :  for    It   does  not   appear  by 
what    other    method   newly    discovered    and    unfre- 
quented countries  can  be  peopled,  or,  during  the  in- 
fancy of  their  establishment,  be  protected  or  suppliv^l. 
The  error  which  we  of  this  nation  at  present  lament, 
seems  to  have  consisted  not  so  much  in  the  original 
formatioxi  of  colonies,  as  in  the  subsequent   manage- 


Agriculture,  and  CommercCo  463 

ment ;  in  imposing  restrictions  too  rigorous,  or  in 
continuing  them  too  long  ;  in  not  perceiving  the 
point  of  time  when  the  irresistible  order  and  progress 
of  human  affairs  demanded  a  change  of  laws  and 
policy. 

III.  Money.  Where  mo7iey  abounds,  the  people 
are  generally  numerous  :  yet  gold  and  silver  neither 
feed  nor  clothe  mankind  ;  nor  are  they  in  all  coun- 
tries converted  into  provision  by  purchasing  the  ne- 
cessaries of  life  at  foreign  markets  ;  nor  do  they,  in 
any  country,  compo^e  those  articles  of  personal  or 
domestic  ornament,  which  certain  orders  of  the  com- 
munity have  learnt  to  regard  as  necessaries  of  life,  and 
without  the  means  of  procuring  which  they  will  not 
<?nter  into  family  establi^^hments — at  least  thi.s  proper- 
ty of  the  precious  metals  obtains  in  a  very  small  de- 
gree. The  effect  of  money  upon  the  number  of  the 
people,  though  visible  to  observation,  is  not  explained 
without  some  difBculty.  To  understand  this  con- 
nexion properly,  we  must  return  to  the  proposition 
with  which  we  concluded  our  reasoning  upon  the 
subject,  "  that  population  is  chiefly  promoted  by  em- 
ployment.** Now  of  employment  money  is  partly 
the  indication,  and  partly  the  cause.  The  only  way 
in  which  money  regularly  and  spontaneously  Jicws 
into  a  country,  is  in  return  for  the  goods  that  are  sent 
out  of  it,  or  the  work  that  is  performed  by  it  ;  and 
the  only  way  in  which  money  is  retained  in  a  country, 
is  by  the  country  supplying,  in  a  great  measure,  its 
own  consumption  of  manufactures.  Consequently, 
the  quantity  of  money  found  in  a  country,  denotes 
the  amount  of  labour  and  employment ;  but  still 
employment,  not  money,  is  the  cause  of  population; 
the  accumulation  of  money  being  merely  a  collateral 
effect  of  the  same  cause,  or  a  circumstance  which  ac- 
companies  the  existence,  and  measures  the  operation 
of  that  cause.  And  this  is  true  of  money  only  whilst 
it  is  acquired  by  the  industry  of  the  inhabitants.  1  he 
treasures  which  belong  to  a  country  by  the  possession 
of  mines,  or  by  the  exaction  of  tribute  from  foreign 
dependencies,  afford  no  conclusion   concerning   the 

L  L  I. 


464  Of  Population,  Pro'visiojt, 

state  of  population.  The  influx  from  these  sources 
may  be  immense,  and  yet  the  country  remain  poor 
and  ill  peopled  ;  of  which  we  see  an  egregious  exam- 
ple in  the  condition  of  Spain,  since  the  acquisition 
of  its  South  American  dominions. 

But,  secondly,  money  may  become  also  a  real  and 
an  operative  cause  of  population,  by  acting  as  a  stimu- 
lus to  industry,  and  by  facilitating  the  means  of  sub- 
sistence. The  ease  of  subsistence,  and  the  encourage-* 
ment  of  industry,  depend  neither  upon  the  price  of 
labour,  nor  upon  the  price  of  provision,  but  upon  the 
proportion  which  the  one  bears  to  the  other.  Now 
the  influx  of  money  into  a  country  naturally  tends 
to  advance  this  proportion  ;  that  is,  every  fresh  ac- 
cession of  money  raises  the  price  of  labour  before  it 
raises  the  price  of  provision.  When  money  is 
brought  froni  abroad,  the  persons,  be  they  who  will, 
into  whose  hands  it  first  arrives,  do  not  buy  up  pro- 
vision with  it,  but  apply  it  to  the  purchase  and  pay- 
ment of  labour.  If  the  state  receives  it,  the  state  dis- 
penses what  it  receives  amongst  soldiers,  sailors,  arti- 
ficers, engineers,  shipwrights,  workmen :  if  private 
persons  bring  home  treasures  of  gold  and  silver,  they  ' 
usually  expend  them  in  the  building  of  houses,  the 
improvement  of  estates,  the  purchase  of  furniture, 
dress,  equipage,  in  articles  ol  luxury  and  splendor  :  if 
the  merchant  be  enriched  by  returns  of  his  foreign 
commerce,  he  applies  his  increav^^ed  capital  to  the  en- 
largement of  his  business  at  home.  The  money  ere 
long  comes  to  market  for  provision,  but  it  comes 
thither  through  the  hands  of  the  manufacturer,  the 
artist,  the  husbandman  and  labourer.  Its  efi^ect,  there- 
fore, upon  the  price  of  art  and  labour  will  precede  its 
effect  upon  the  price  of  provision  ;  and,  during  the 
interval  between  one  effect  and  the  other,  the  means 
of  subsistence  will  be  multiplied  and  facilitated,  as  well 
as  industry  be  excited  by  new  rewards.  When  the 
greater  plenty  of  money  in  circulation  has  produced 
an  advance  in  the  price  of  provision,  corresponding 
to  the  advanced  price  of  labour,  its  effect  ceases.  1  he 
labourer  no  longer  gains  any  thing  by  the  increase  of 


Agricidture,  and  Commerce,  465 

liis  wages.  It  is  not,  therefore,  the  quantity  of  specie 
collected  into  a  country,  but  the  continual  increase 
of  that  quantity,  from  which  the  advantage  arises  to 
employment  and  population.  It  is  only  the  accession 
of  money  which  produces  the  effect,  and  it  is  only  by 
money  constantly  flowing  into  a  country  that  the  ef- 
fect can  be  constant.  Now  whatever  consequence 
arises  to  the  country  from  the  influx  of  money,  the 
contrary  may  be  expected  to  follow  from  the  dimi- 
nution of  its  quantity  ;  and  accordingly  we  find,  that 
whatever  cause  drains  off  the  specie  of  a  country,  fast- 
er than  the  streams  which  feed  it  can  supply,  not  only 
impoverishes  the  country,  but  depopulates  it.  1  he 
knowledge  and  experience  of  this  effect  have  given 
occasion  to  a  phrase  which  occurs  in  almost  every  dis- 
course upon  commerce  or  politics.  The  balance  of 
trade  with  any  foreign  nation  is  said  to  be  against  or 
in  favour  of  a  country,  simply  as  it  tends  to  carry 
money  out,  or  to  bring  it  in  ;  that  is,  according  as 
the  price  of  the  imports  exceeds  or  falls  short  of  the 
price  of  the  exports.  So  invariably  is  the  increase  or 
diminution  of  the  specie  of  a  country  regarded  as  a 
test  of  the  public  advantage  or  detriment  which  arises 
from  any  branch  of  itx  commerce. 

IV.  Tax^^tion.  As  ^^.vcj  take  nothing  out  of  a 
country  ;  as  they  do  not  diminish  the  public  stock, 
only  vary  the  distribution  of  it,  they  are  not  necessa- 
rily prejudicial  to  population.  If  the  state  exact  mo- 
ney from  certain  members  of  the  community,  she 
dispenses  it  also  amongst  other  members  of  the  same 
community.  They  who  contribute  to  the  revenue, 
and  they  who  are  supported  or  benefited  by  the  ex- 
penses of  government,  are  to  be  placed  one  against 
the  other  ;  and  whilst  what  the  subsistence  of  one 
part  is  profited  by  receiving,  compensates  for  what 
that  of  the  other  suffers  by  paying,  the  common  fund 
of  the  society  is  not  lessened.  This  is  true  :  but  it 
must  be  observed,  that  although  the  sum  distributed 
by  the  state  be  always  equal  to  the  sum  collected  from 
the  people,  yet  the  gain  and  loss  to  the  means  of  sub- 
sistence may  be  serj  wieqtial ',    and  the  balance  will 


466  Of  Population,  Provision, 

remain  on  the  wrong  or  the  right  side  of  the  account, 
according  as  the  money  passes  by  taxation  from  the 
industrious  to  the  idle,  from  the  many  to  the  few, 
from  those  who  want  to  those  who  abound,  or  in  a 
contrary  direction.  For  instance,  a  tax  upon  coaches, 
to  be  laid  out  in  the  repair  of  roads,  would  probably 
improve  the  population  of  a  neighbourhood  ;  a  tast 
upon  cottages,  to  be  ultimately  expended  in  the  pur- 
chase and  f^upport  of  coaches,  would  certainly  dimin^ 
ish  it.  In  like  manner,  a  tax  upon  wine  or  tea  dis- 
tributed in  bounties  to  fishermen  or  husbandmen, 
would  augment  the  provi^ion  of  a  country ;  a  tax 
upon  fisheries  and  husbandry,  however  indirect  or 
concealed,  to  be  converted,  when  raised,  to  the  pro- 
curing of  wine  and  tea  for  the  idle  and  opulent,  would 
naturally  impair  the  public  stock.  The  eiFect,  there- 
fore, of  taxes  upon  the  means  of  subsistence  depends 
not  so  much  upon  the  amount  of  the  sum  levied,  as 
upon  the  object  of  the  tax,  and  the  application. 
Taxes  likewise  may  be  so  adju'ited  as  to  conduce  to 
the  restraint  of  luxury,  and  the  correction  of  vice ; 
to  the  encouragement  of  industry,  trade,  agriculture, 
and  marriage.  Taxes,  thus  contrived,  become  re- 
v^ards  and  penalties  ;  not  only  sources  of  revenue, 
but  instruments  of  police.  Vices  indeed  themselves 
cannot  be  taxed  without  holding  forth  such  a  condi- 
tional toleration  of  them  as  to  destroy  men's  percep- 
tion of  their  guilt  *  a  tax  comes  to  be  considered  as  a 
commutation  :  the  materials,  however,  and  incen* 
lives  of  vice  may.  Although,  for  instance,  drunken. 
ness  would  be,  on  this  account,  an  unfit  object  of 
taxation,  yet  public  houses  and  spirituous  liquors  are 
very  properly  subjected  to  heavy  imposts. 

Nevertheless,  although  it  may  be  true  that  taxes 
cannot  be  pronounced  to  be  detrimental  to  popula- 
tion, by  any  absolute  necessity  in  their  nature  ;  and 
though,  under  some  modifications,  and  vi^hen  urged 
only  to  a  certain  extent,  they  may  even  operate  in 
favour  of  it ;  yet  it  will  be  found,  in  a  great  plurality 
of  in  •stances,  that  their  tend -ncy  is  noxious.  Let  it 
be  supposed  that  nine  families  inhabit  a  neighbour- 


Jgriculture,  and  Commerce.  467 

hood,  each  possessing  barely  the  means  of  subsistence, 
or  oF  that  mode  of  ^■ubsi.stence  which  custom  hatli 
established  among\st  them  ;  let  a  tenth  family  be  quar- 
tered upon  these,  to  be  supported  by  a  tax  raised 
from  the  nine  ;  or  ratber,  let  one  of  the  nine  have 
his  income  augmented  by  a  similar  deduction  from 
the  incomes  of  the  rest :  in  either  of  these  cases,  it  is 
evident  that  the  whole  district  would  be  broken  up. 
For  as  the  entire  income  of  each  is  supposed  to  be 
barely  sufficient  for  the  establishment  which  it  main- 
tains, a  deduction  of  any  part  destroys  that  establish- 
ment. Now  it  is  no  answer  to  this  objection,  it  is 
no  apology  for  the  grievance,  to  say,  that  nothing  is 
taken  out  of  the  neighbourhood  ;  that  the  stock  is 
not  diminished  :  the  mischief  is  done  by  deranging 
the  distribution.  Nor,  again  is  the  luxury  of  one 
family,  or  even  the  maintenance  of  an  additional 
family,  a  recompense  to  the  country  for  the  ruin  of 
nine  others.  Nor,  lastly,  will  it  alter  the  effect, 
though  it  may  conceal  the  cause,  that  the  contribu- 
tion, instead  of  being  levied  directly  upon  each  day's 
wages,  is  mixed  up  in  the  price  of  some  article  of 
constant  use  and  consumption,  a.-^  in  a  tax  upon  can- 
dles, malt,  leather,  or  fuel.  Thi^  example  illustrates 
the  tendency  of  taxes  to  obstruct  subsistence  ;  and 
the  minutest  degree  of  this  obstruction  will  he  felt  in 
the  formation  of  families.  The  example,  indeed, 
forms  an  extreme  case  :  the  evil  is  magnified,  in  or- 
der to  render  its  operation  distinct  and  visible.  In 
real  life,  families  may  not  be  broken  up,  or  forced 
from  their  habitation,  bouses  be  quitted,  or  countries 
suddenly  deserted,  in  consequence  of  any  new  impo- 
sition whatever  ;  bat  marriages  will  becom.e  gradu- 
ally less  frequent. 

It  seems  necessary,  however,  to  distinguish  between 
the  operation  of  a  new  tax,  and  the  effect  of  taxes 
which  have  been  long  established.  In  the  course  of 
(Circulation  the  money  may  flow  back  to  the  hands 
from  which  it  is  taken.  The  proportion  between 
the  supply  and  the  expense  of  subsistence,  which  had 
been  disturbed  by  the  tax,    may  at  length  recover  it* 


468  Of  Population,,  Provision, 

self  again.  In  the  instance  just  now  stated,  the  addi- 
tion  of  a  tenth  family  to  the  neighbourhood,  or  the 
enlarged  expenses  of  one  of  the  nine,  may,  in  ^ome 
shape  or  other,  so  advance  the  profits,  or  increase  the 
employment  of  the  rest,  as  to  make  full  re>titution 
for  the  share  of  their  property  of  which  it  deprives 
them;  or,  what  is  more  likely  to  happen,  a  reduction 
may  take  place  in  their  mode  of  living,  suited  to  the 
abridgment  of  their  income^.  Yet  sfi'l  the  ultimate 
and  permanent  effect  of  taxation,  though  distinguish- 
able from  the  impression  of  a  nev/  tax,  i^  generally 
adverse  to  population.  The  proportion  above  spoken 
of,  can  oaly  be  restored  by  one  side  or  other  of  the 
following  alternative  :  by  the  people  either  contract- 
ing their  wants,  which  at  the  same  time  diminishes 
consumption  and  employment  ;  or  by  raising  the 
price  of  labour,  which  necessarily  adding  to  the  price 
of  the  productions  and  manafaccures  of  the  country, 
phecks  their  sale  at  foreign  markets.  A  nation 
vyhich  is  burthened  with  taxes,  must  always  be  un- 
dersold by  a  nation  which  is  free  from  them,  unless 
the  difference  be  made  up  by  some  singular  advantage 
of  climate,  soil,  skill,  or  industry.  This  quality  be- 
longs to  all  taxe.s  which  affect  the  mass  of  the  ccfm- 
munity  even  when  imposed  upon  the  properest  ob- 
jects, and  applied  to  the  fairest  purposes.  But  abuses 
are  inseparable  from  the  disposal  of  public  money. 
As  governments  are  usually  administered,  the  produce 
of  public  taxes  is  expended  upon  a  train  of  gentry,  in 
the  maintaining  of  pomp,  or  in  the  purchase  of  influ- 
ence. The  conversion  of  property,  which  taxes  ef- 
fectuate, when  they  are  employed  in  this  manner,  is 
attended  with  obvious  evils.  It  takes  from  the  in- 
dustrious to  give  to  the  idle  ;  it  increases  the  number 
of  the  latter  ;  it  tends  to  accumulation  ;  it  sacrifices 
the  conveniency  of  many  to  the  luxury  of  a  few  ;  it 
makes  no  return  to  the  people,  from  whom  the  tax 
is  drawn,  that  is  satisfactory  or  intelligible  ;  it  en- 
courages no  activity  which  is  useful  or  productive. 

The  sum  to  be   raised  being  settled,  a  wise  states- 
man will  contrive  his  taxes  principally  with  a  viev/  to 


Agriculture^  and  Commerce.  469 

their  effect  upon  population  ;  that  is,  he  will  so  adjust 
them,  as  to  give  the  least  possible  obstruction  to  those 
means  of  subsistence  by  which  the  mass  of  the  com- 
munity  is   maintained.      We  are  accustomed  to  an 
opinion,  that  a  tax,  to  be  just,  ought  to  be  accurately 
proportioned  to  the  circumstances  of  the  persons  who 
pay  it.     But  upon    what,  it  might  be    asked,  is   this 
opinion  founded  ;  unless  it  could  be  shown  that  such 
a  proportion  interferes  the  least  with  the  general  con- 
veniency  of  subsistence  ?  Whereas  I  should  rather  be- 
lieve, that  a  tax,  constructed  with  a  view  to  that  con- 
veniency,  ought   to   rise  upon  the  different  classes  of 
the    community,    in  a  much    higher   ratio  than  the 
simple  proportion  of  their  incomes.     The  point  to  be 
regarded,  is  not  wh?it  men  have,^  but  what  they  can 
spare  ;  and  it  is  evident  that  a  man  who  possesses  a 
thousand  pounds  a  year,  can  more  easily  give  up  a 
hundred,  than  a  man   with  a  hundred  pounds  a  year 
can  part  with  ten  ;    that  is,  those  habits  of  life  which 
are  reasonable  and  innocent,  and  upon  the  ability  to 
continue  which  the  formation    of   families    depends, 
will  be  much  less  affected  by  the  one  deduction  than 
the  other :  it  is  still  more   evident,   that  a  man  of  a 
hundred  pounds  a  year    would  not  be  so  much   dis- 
tressed in    his  sub>istence,  by  a  demand  from  him  of 
ten  pounds,  as  a  man  of  ten  pounds  a  year  would  be 
by  the  loss  of  one  :    to  which  we  must  add,  that  the 
population  of  every  country  being  replenished  by  the 
marriages  of  the  lowest  ranks  of  the  society,  their  ac- 
commodation and  relief  become  of  more  importance 
to  the  state,  than  the    conveniency  of  any  higher  but 
less  numerous  order  of  its    citizens.     But  whatever 
be  the  proportion   which  public  expediency  directs, 
whether  the    simple,  the   duplicate,  or  any  higher  or 
intermediate    proportion    of    men's  incomes,  it  can 
never  be  attained  by  any  single  tax ;   as  no  single  object 
of  taxation  can  be  found,  which  measures  the  ability 
of  the  subject  with  sufficient  generality  and  exactness. 
It  is  only  by  a  system  and    variety  of  taxes  mutually' 
balancing  arid    equalizing  one   another,  that  a   due 
proportion  can  he  preserved.     For  instance,  if  a  tax 


4.70  Of  Population,  Provision, 

upon  lands  press  with  greater  hardship  upon  those 
who  live  in  the  country,  it  may  be  properly  counter, 
poised  by  a  tax  upon  the  rent  of  houses,  which  will 
affect  principally  the  inhabitants  of  large  towns. 
Distinctions  may  also  be  framed  in  some  taxeSj  which 
shall  allow  abatements  or  exemptions  to  married  per- 
sons ;  to  the  parents  of  a  certain  number  of  legiti- 
mate children  ;  to  improvers  of  the  soil ;  to  particu- 
lar modes  of  cultivation,  as  to  tillage  in  preference  to 
pasturage  ;  and  in  general  to  that  industry  which  is 
immediately  productive,  in  preference  to  that  which 
is  only  instrumental :  but,  above  all,  which  may  leave 
the  heaviest  part  of  the  burthen  upon  the  methods, 
whatever  they  be,  of  acquiring  wealth  without  indus- 
try, or  even  of  subsisting  in  idlene'-s. 

V.  Exportation  of  bread-corn.  Nothing 
seems  to  have  a  more  positive  tendency  to  reduce  the 
number  of  the  people,  than  the  sending  abroad  part 
of  the  provision  by  which  they  are  maintained  ;  yet 
this  has  been  the  policy  of  legislators  very  studious  of 
the  improvement  of  their  country.  In  order  to  rec- 
oncile ourselves  to  a  practice,  which  appears  to  mil- 
itate with  the  chief  interest,  that  is,  with  the  popu- 
lation of  the  country  that  adopts  it,  we  must  be  re- 
minded of  a  maxim  which  belongs  to  the  productions 
both  of  nature  and  art,  *'  that  it  is  impossible  to  have 
enough  without  a  superfluity  "  The  point  of  suffi- 
ciency cannot,  in  any  case,  be  so  exactly  hit  upon,  as 
to  have  nothing  to  Sj^are,  yet  never  to  want.  This  is 
peculiarly  true  of  bread-corn,  of  which  the  annual 
increase  is  extremely  variable.  As  it  is  necessary 
that  the  crop  be  adequate  to  the  consumption  in  a 
year  of  scarcity,  it  must,  of  consequence,  greatly  ex- 
ceed it  in  a  year  of  plenty.  A  redundancy  therefore 
will  occasionally  arise  from  the  very  care  that  is  taken 
to  secure  the  people  against  the  danger  of  want ;  anil 
it  is  manifest  that  the  exportation  of  this  redunda!)cy 
subtracts  nothing  from  the  naniber  that  can  regular- 
ly be  maintained  by  the  produce  of  the  soil.  More- 
over, as  the  exportation  of  corr.,  under  these  circum- 
stances, is  attended  with    no  direct  injury  to  popula- 


Agriculture,  aiid  Commerce.  47 1 

tion,  so  the  benefits,^  which  indirectly  arise  to  popu- 
lation from  foreign  commerce,  belong  to  this,  in 
common  with  other  specicvS  of  trade  ;  together  with 
the  peculiar  advantage  of  presenting  a  constant  in. 
citement  to  the  skill  and  industry  of  the  husband- 
man, by  the  promise  of  a  certain  sale  and  an  adequate 
price,  under  eve'-y  contingency  of  season  and  pro- 
duce. There  is  another  situation,  in  which  corn  may 
not  only  be  exported,  but  in  which  the  people  can 
thrive  by  no  other  means  ;  that  is,  of  a  newly  settled 
country  with  a  fertile  soil.  The  exportation  of  a 
large  proportion  of  the  corn  which  a  country  produ- 
ces, proves,  it  is  true,  that  the  inhabitants  have  not 
yet  attained  to  the  number  which  the  country  is  ca- 
pable of  maintaining  ;  but  it  does  not  piove  but  that 
they  may  he  hastening  to  this  limit  with  the  utmost 
practicable  celerity  which  is  the  perfection  to  be 
sought  for  in  a  young  e  tablishment.  In  all  cases 
except  those  two,  and  in  the  former  of  them  to  any 
greater  degree  than  what  is  necessary  to  take  off  oc- 
casional redundancies,  the  exportation  of  corn  is 
either  itself  noxious  to  population,  or  argues  a  defect 
of  population  arising  from  some  other  cause. 

VI.  ABRioGMiiNT  OF  LABOUR,  It  has  loug  been 
made  a  question,  whether  those  mechanical  contri- 
vances, which  abridge  labour^hy  performing  the  ame 
work  by  fewer  hands,  be  detrimental  or  not  to  the 
population  of  a  country.  From  what  has  been  de- 
livered in  preceding  parts  of  the  present  chapter,  it 
will  be  evident  that  this  question  is  equivalent  to 
another,  whether  such  contrivances  diminish  or  not 
the  auaniity  of  empJoyment.  The  first  and  most  ob- 
■^ious  effect  undoubtedly  is  this  ;  because  if  one  man 
be  made  to  do  what  three  men  did  before,  two  are 
immediately  discharged  :  but  if,  by  some  more  gen- 
eral and  remoter  consequence,  they  increase  the  de- 
mand for  work,  or,  what  is  the  same  thing,  prevent 
the  diminution  of  that  demand,  in  a  greater  propor- 
tion than  they  contract  the  number  of  hands  by  which 
it  is  .performed,  the  quantity  of  employment,  upon 
the  whole,  will  gain  an  addition.     Upon  which  prin- 

M   M   M 


472  0/  Population,  Provision, 

ciple  it  may  be  observed,  firstly,  that  whenever  a  me- 
chanical invention  succeeds  in  orio. place,  it  is  necessa- 
ry that  it  be  imitated  in  every  other  where  the  same 
manufacture  is  carried  on  ;  for  it  is  manifest  that  he, 
who  has  the  benefit  of  a  conciser  operation,  will  soon 
outvie  and  undersell  a  competitor  who  continues  to 
use  a  more  circuitous  labour.     It  is  also  true,  in  the 
second  place,  that  whoever  Jirst  discover  or  adopt  a 
mechanical  improvement,  will,  for  some  time,  draw 
to  themselves  an  increase  of  employment ;  and  that 
this  preference  may  continue  even  after  the  improve- 
ment has  become  general :    for,  in   every   kind  of 
trade,  it  is  not  only  a  great  but  permanent  advantage, 
to  have   once   pre-occupied   the   public   reputation. 
Thirdly,  after  every  superiority  which  might  be  de- 
rived from  the  possession  of  a  secret  has  ceased,  it  may 
be  well  questioned,  whether  even  then  any  loss  can 
accrue  to  employment.     The  same    money  will   be 
spared  to  the  same  article  still.     Wherefore,  in  pro- 
portion as  the  article  can  be  afforded  at  a  lower  price, 
by  reason  of  an  easier  or  shorter  process  in  the  man- 
ufacture, it  will  either  grow  into  more  general  use, 
or  an  improvement  will  take  place  in  the  quality  and 
fabric,  which  will  demand  a  proportionable  addition 
of  hands.     The  number  of  pej;sons  employed  in  the 
manufactory  of  stockings  has  not,  I  apprehend,  de- 
creased, since  the  invention  of  stocking  mills.     The 
amount  of  what  is  expended  upon  the  article,  after 
subtracting  from  it  the  price  of  the  raw  material,  and 
consequently  v/hat  is  paid  for  work  in  this  branch  of 
our  manufactories,  is  not   less  than   it   was   before. 
Goods  of  a  finer  texture  are  worn  in  the  place  of 
coarser.     This  is  the  change  which  the  invention  has 
produced  ;  and  which  compensates  to  the  manufac- 
tory for  every  other  inconvcniency.     Add  to  which, 
that  in  the  above,  and  in  almost  every  instance,  an 
improvement  whicli  conduces  to    the   recommenda- 
tion of  a  manufactory,  cither  by  the  cheapness  or  the 
quality  of  the  goods,  draws  up  after  it  many  depend-' 
ent  employments,  in  which  no  abbreviation  has  taken 
place. 


Agriculture^  ^nd  Commerce,  473 

From  the  reasoning  that  has  been  pursued,  and  the 
various  considerations  suggested  in  this  chapter,  a 
judgment  may,  in  some  sort,  be  fSrmed,  how  far 
regulations  of  law  are  in  their  nature  capable  of  con- 
tributing to  the  support  and  advancement  of  popu- 
lation. I  say  how  far :  for,  as  in  many  subjects,  so 
especially  in  those  which  relate  to  commerce,  to 
plenty,  to  riches,  and  to  the  number  of  people,  more 
is  wont  to  be  expected  from  laws,  than  laws  can  do. 
Laws  can  only  imperfectly  restrain  that  dissoluteness 
of  manners,  which,  by  diminishing  the  frequency  of 
marriages,  impairs  the  very  source  of  population. 
Laws  cannot  regulate  the  wants  of  mankind,  their 
mode  of  living,  or  their  desire  of  those  superfluities 
which  fashion,  more  irresistible  than  laws,  has  once 
introduced  into  general  usage  ;  or  in  other  words, 
has  erected  into  necessaries  of  life.  Laws  cannot  in- 
duce men  to  enter  into  marriages,  when  the  expenses 
of  a  family  must  deprive  them  of  that  system  of  accom- 
modation to  which  they  have  habituated  their  expec- 
tations. Laws,  by  their  protection,  by  assuring  to  the 
labourer  the  fruit  and  protlt  of  his  labour,  may  help 
to  make  a  people  industrious  ;  but,  without  industry, 
the  laws  cannot  provide  either  subsistence  or  employ- 
ment :  laws  cannot  make  corn  grow  without  toil 
and  care  ;  or  trade  flourish  without  art  and  diligence. 
In  spite  of  all  laws,  the  expert,  laborious,  honest 
workmen  will  be  employed,  in  preference  to  the  lazy, 
the  unskilful,  the  fraudulent,  and  evasive  j  and  this 
Is  not  more  true  of  two  inhabitants  of  the  same  vil- 
lage, than  it  is  of  the  people  of  two  different  coun- 
tries, which  communicate  either  with  each  other,  or 
with  the  rest  of  the  world.  The  natural  basis  of 
trade  is  rivalship  of  quality  and  price ;  or,  which  is 
the  same  thing,  of  skill  and  industry.  Every  attempt 
to  force  trade  by  operation  of  law,  that  is,  by  com- 
pelling persons  to  buy  goods  at  one  market,  which 
they  can  obtain  cheaper  and  better  from  another,  is 
sure  to  be  either  eluded  by  the  quick- sightedness  and 
incessant  activity  of  private  interest,  or  to  be  frus- 
trated by  retaliation.     One  half  of  the  commercial 


474  Of  Population,  Provision, 

laws  of  many  states  are  calculated  merely  to  counter- 
act the  restrictions  which  have  been  imposed  by  oth- 
er states.  Perhaps  the  only  way  in  which  the  inter- 
position of  law  is  salutary  in  trade,  is  in  the  preven- 
tion of  frauds. 

Next  to  the  indispensible  requisites  of  internal 
peace  and  security,  the  chief  advantage  which  can 
be  derived  to  population  from  th-  interference  of 
law,  appears  to  me  to  consist  in  the  encouragement 
of  agriculture.  This,  at  least,  is  the  direct  way  of  in- 
creasing the  number  of  the  people  ;  every  other 
mode  being  effectual  only  by  its  influence  upon  this. 
Now  the  principal  expedient  by  which  such  a  pur- 
pose can  be  promoted,  is  to  adjust  the  laws  of  prop- 
erty, as  nearly  as  pos.siDle,  to  the  following  rules  : 
fir^t,  "  to  give  to  the  occupier  all  the  power  over 
the  soil  which  is  necessary  for  its  perfect  cultivation  ;" 
secondly,  "  to  assign  the  whole  profit  of  every  im- 
provement to  the  persons  by  whose  activity  it  is  car- 
ried on."  What  we  call  property  in  land,  as  hath 
been  observed  above,  is  power  over  it.  Now  it  is  in- 
different to  the  public  in  whose  hands  this  power  re- 
sides, if  it  be  rightly  used  :  it  matters  not  to  whom 
the  land  belongs,  if  it  be  well  cultivated.  When  we 
lament  that  great  estates  are  often  united  in  the  same 
hand,^  or  complain  that  one  man  possesses  what  would 
be  sufficient  tor  a  thousand,  we  suffer  ourselves  to 
be  misled  by  word.--.  The  owner  of  ten  thousand 
pounds  a  year  consumes  little  more  of  the  produce  of 
the  '-oil  than  the  owner  of  ten  pounds  a  year.  If  the 
cultivation  be  equal,  the  estate,  in  the  hands  of  one 
great  'Ord,  affords  subsistence  and  employment  to  the 
same  number  of  per.sons  as  it  would  do  if  it  were  di- 
vided amongst  a  hundred  proprietors.  In  like  man- 
nei  we  ought  to  judge  of  the  effect  upon  the  public 
interest,  which  may  arise  from  lands  being  holden  by 
the  king,  or  by  the  subject  \  by  private  persons,  or 
by  corporations  ;  by  laymen,  or  occlesiastics  ;  in  fee, 
or  for  Ufe  ;  by  virtue  of  office,  or  in  right  of  inher- 
itance. I  do  not  mean  that  these  varieties  make  no 
difference,  but  I  mean  that  ail  the  difference  they  da 


Agriculture,  and  Cotnmerce. 

make  respects   the  cultivation  of  the  lands  which  are 
60  holden. 

There  exists  in  this  country  conditions  of  tenure 
which  condemn  the  land  itself  to  perpetual  sterility. 
Of  this  kind  is  the  right  of  coimium,  which  precludes 
each  proprietor  from  the  improvement,  or  even  the 
convenient  occupation,  of  his  estate,  without  (what 
seldom  can  be  obtained)  the  consent  of  many  others. 
This  tenure  is  also  usually  embarrassed  by  the  inter- 
ference of  manerial  claims,  under  which  it  often  hap- 
pens that  the  surface  belongs  to  one  owner,  and  the 
soil  to  another ;  so  that  neither  owner  can  stir  a  clod 
without  the  concurrence  of  his  partner  in  the  prop- 
erty. In  many  manors,  the  tenant  is  re  trained  from 
granting  leases  beyond  a  short  term  of  years ;  which 
renders  every  plan  of  sohd  improvement  impractica- 
ble. In  these  cases  the  owner  wants,  what  the  first 
rule  of  rational  policy  requires,  "  sufficient  power 
over  the  soil  for  its  perfect  cultivation."  This  pow- 
er ought  to  be  extended  to  him  by  some  easy  and 
general  law  of  enfranchisement,  partition,  and  inclo- 
sure  ;  which,  though  compult^ory  upon  the  lord,  or 
the  rest  of  the  tenants,  whilst  it  has  in  view  the  me- 
lioration of  the  soil,  and  tenders  an  equitable  com- 
pensation for  every  right  that  h  takes  away,  is  neither 
more  arbitrary,  nor  more  dangerous  to  the  stabil- 
ity of  property,  than  that  which  is  done  in  the  con- 
struction of  roads,  bridges,  embankments,  navigable 
canals,  and  indeed  in  almost  every  public  work,  in 
which  private  owners  of  land  are  obliged  to  accept 
that  price  for  their  property  which  an  indifferent  jury 
may  award.  It  may  here  however  be  proper  to  ob- 
serve, that  although  the  inclosure  of  v.astes  and  pas- 
tures be  generally  beneficial  to  population,  yet  the 
inclosure  of  lands  in  tillage,  in  order  to  convert  them 
into  pastures,  is  as  gtneraily  hurtful. 

But  secondly,  agriculture  is  discouraged  by  everv 
constitution  of  landed  property  which  lets  in  those, 
who  have  no  concern  in  the  improvement,  to  a  par- 
ticipation of  the  profit.  This  objection  is  applicable 
to  all  such  customs  of  manors  as  subject  the  proprie- 


476  Of  Population,  Provhion^^c. 

tor,  upon  the  death  of  the  lord  or  ten-ant,  or  the 
iilienation  of  the  estate,  to  a  fine  apportioned  to  the 
improved  value  of  the  land.  But  of  all  institutions 
which  are  in  this  way  adverse  to  cultivation  and  im- 
provement, none  is  so  noxious  as  that  of  tithes.  A 
claimant  here  enters  into  the  produce,  who  contrib- 
uted no  assistance  whatever  to  the  production.  When 
years,  perhaps,  of  care  and  toil  have  matured  an  im- 
provement ;  when  the  husbandman  sees  new  crops 
ripening  to  his  skill  and  industry  j  the  moment  he 
is  ready  to  put  his  sickle  to  the  grain,  he  finds  him- 
self compelled  to  divide  his  harvest  with  a  stranger. 
Tithes  are  a  tax  not  only  upon  industry,  but  upon 
that  industry,  which  feeds  mankind  ;  upon  that  spe- 
cies of  exertion  which  it  is  the  aim  of  all  wise  laws  to 
cherish  and  promote ;  and  to  uphold  and  excite 
which,  composes,  as  we  have  seen,  the  main  benefit 
that  the  community  receives  from  the  whole  system 
of  trade,  and  the  success  of  commerce.  And,  togeth- 
er with  the  more  general  inconveniency  that  attends 
the  exaction  of  tithes,  there  is  this  additional  evil,  in 
the  mode  at  least  according  to  which  they  are  collect- 
ed at  present,  that  they  operate  as  a  bounty  upon 
pasturage.  The  burthen  of  the  tax  falls  wich  its 
chief,  if  not  with  its  whole  weight,  upon  tillage  j 
that  is  to  say,  upon  that  precise  mode  of  cultivation 
\srhich,  as  hath  been  shewn  above,  it  is  the  business  of 
the  state  to  relieve  and  remunerate,  in  preference  to 
every  other.  No  measure  of  such  extensive  concern 
appears  to  me  so  practicable,  nor  any  single  alteration 
so  beneficial,  as  the  conversion  of  tithes  into  corn 
rents.  This  commutation,  I  am  convinced,  might 
be  so  adjusted,  as  to  secure  to  the  tithe-holder  a  com- 
plete and  perpetual  equivalent  for  his  interest,  and  to 
kavc  to  industry  its  full  operation  and  entire  reward. 


Of  War,  and  of  Military  Establishments,      47 


CHAPTER  XII. 


OF  WAR,  AND  OF  MILITARY  ESTABLISH- 
MENTS. 


JSeCAUSE  the  Christian  Scriptures  de- 
sfcribe  wars,  as  what  they  are,  as  crimes  or  judg- 
ments, some  have  been  led  to  beheve  that  it  is  unlaw- 
ful for  a  Christian  to  bear  arms.  But  it  should  be 
remembered,  that  it  may  be  necessary  for  individuals 
to  unite  their  force,  and  for  this  end  to  resign  them- 
selves to  the  direction  of  a  common  will ;  and  yet  it 
may  be  true  that  that  will  is  often  actuated  by  crim- 
inal motives,  and  often  determined  to  destructive 
purposes.  Hence,  although  the  origin  of  wars  be 
ascribed  in  Scripture  to  the  operation  of  lawless  and 
malignant  passions  ;*  and  though  war  itself  be  enu- 
merated among  the  sorest  calamities  with  which  a 
land  can  be  visited,  the  profession  of  a  soldier  is  no- 
where forbidden  or  condemned.  When  the  soldiers 
demanded  of  John  the  Baptist  what  they  should  do, 
he  said  unto  them,  "  Bo  violence  to  no  man,  neither 
accuse  any  falsely,  and  be  content  with  your  wages."! 
In  which  answer  we  do  not  find  that,  in  order  to 
prepare  themselves  for  the  reception  of  the  kingdom 
of  God,  it  was  required  of  soldiers  to  relinquish  their 
profession,  but  only  that  they  should  beware  of  the 
vices  of  which  that  prfession  v/as  accused.  The  pre- 
cept v/hich  follows,  "  Be  content  with  your  wages,'* 
supposed  them  to  continue  in  their  situation.  It  was 
of  a  Roman  centurion  that  Christ  pronounced  that 
memorable  eulogy,  "J  have  not  found  so  great  faith, 
no  not  in  Israi^l."|  The  first  Gentile  convert§  who 
was  received  into  the  Christian  church,  and  to  whom 
the  gospel  was  imparted  by  the  immediate  and  espc-- 

*  James,  iv.  I.  fLuke,rii   11.  ;{ I.uke,  vii.  P.  ■f^/'v.tsi.  ! 


47S  Of  War,  and  of 

cial  direction  of  Heaven,  held  the  same  station  :  and 
in  the  history  of  this  transiaction  we  di'^cover  not  rhe 
•smallest  intimation,  that  Cornelius,  up'^m  becoming 
a  Christian,  quitted  the  service  of  the  Roman  legion ; 
that  his  profe'^sion  was  objected  to,  or  his  continuance 
in  it  considered  as  in  any  wise  inconsistent  with  his 
new  character. 

In  applying  the  principle?  of  morality  to  the  affairs 
of  nations,  the  difficulty  which  meets  us  arises  from 
hence,  "  tnat  the  parriclar  consequence  sometimes 
appears  to  exceed  the  value  of  the  general  rule."  In 
this  circumstance  is  founded  the  only  distinction  that 
exists  between  the  case  of  independent  states,  and  of 
independent  individuals.  In  the  transactions  of  pri- 
vate persons,  no  advantage  that  results  from  the 
breach  of  a  general  law  of  justice^  can^  compensate  to 
the  pubhc  for  the  violation  of  the  law  :  in  the  con- 
cerns of  empire,  this  may  sometimes  be  doubted. 
Thus,  that  the  faith  of  promises  ought  to  be  main- 
tained, as  far  as  is  lawful,  -and  as  far  as  was  intended 
by  the  parties,  whatever  inconveniency  either  of  them 
may  suffer  by  his  fidelity,  in  the  intercourse  of  pri- 
vate life,  is  seldom  disputed  ;  because  it  is  evident  to 
almost  every  man  who  reflects  upon  the  subject,  that 
the  common  happiness  gains  more  by  the  preserva- 
tion of  the  rule,  than  it  could  do  by  the  removal  of 
the  inconveniency.  But  when  the  adherence  to  a 
public  treaty  would  enslave  a  whole  people,  would 
block  up  seas,  rivers,  or  harbours,  depopulate  cities, 
condemn  fertile  regions  to  eternal  desolation,  cut  off  - 
a  country  from  its  sources  of  provision,  or  deprive  it 
of  those  commercial  advantages  to  which  its  climate, 
produce,  or  situation  naturally  intitle  it  ;  the  magni- 
tude of  the  particular  evil  Induces  us  to  call  in  ques- 
tion the  obligation  of  the  general  rule.  Moral  phi- 
losophy furnishes  no  precise  solution  to  these  doubts. 
She  cannot  pronouce  that  any  rule  of  morality  is  so 
rigid  as  to  bend  to  no  exceptions  ;  nor,  on  ^he  other 
liand,  can  she  compri -e  these  exceptions  within  any 
previ(.;us  description.  She  confe^-ises  that  the  obliga- 
uon  of  every  law  depends   upon  its  ultimate  utility  ; 


Military  Establishments.  479 

Uiat  this  utility  having  a  finate  and  determinate  val- 
ue, situations  may  be  feigned,  and  consequently  may 
possibly  arise,  in  which  the  general  tendency  is  out- 
weighed by  the  enormity  of  the  particular  mischief : 
but  she  recals,  at  the  .^ame  time,  to  the  consideration 
of  the  inquirer,  the  almost  inestimable  importance,  as 
of  other  general  rules  of  relative  justice,  so  especially 
of  national  and  personal  fidelity  ;  the  unseen,  if  not 
unbounded,  extent  of  the  mischief  which  must  fol- 
low from  the  want  of  it ;  the  danger  of  leaving  it  to 
the  sufferer  to  decide  upon  the  comparison  of  partic- 
ular and  general  consequences  ;  and  the  still  greater 
danger  of  such  decisions  being  drawn  into  future  pre- 
cedents. If  treaties,  for  instance,  be  no  longer  bind- 
ing than  whilst  they  are  convenient,  or  until  the  in- 
conveniency  ascend  to  a  certain  point,  which  point 
must  be  fixed  by  the  judgment,  or  rather  by  the  feel- 
ings, of  the  complaining  party ;  or  if  such  an  opin- 
ion, after  being  authorized  by  a  few  examples,  come 
at  length  to  prevail  ;  one  and  almost  the  only  meth- 
od  of  averting  or  closing  the  calamities  of  war,  of 
either  preventing  or  putting  a  stop  to  the  destruction 
of  mankind,  is  lost  to  the  world  for  ever.  We  do 
not  say  that  no  evil  can  exceed  this,  nor  any  possible 
advantage  compensate  it ;  but  we  say  that  a  loss, 
which  affects  all,  will  scarcely  be  made  up  to  the  com- 
mon stock  of  human  happiness  by  any  benefit  that  can 
be  procured  to  a  single  nation,  which,  however  re- 
spectable when  compared  with  any  other  single  na- 
tion, bears  an  inconsiderable  proportion  to  the  whole» 
These,  however,  are  the  principles  upon  which  the 
calculation  is  to  be  formed.  It  is  enough,  in  this 
place,  to  remark  the  cause  which  produces  the  hesita- 
tion that  we  sometimes  feel,  in  applying  rules  of 
personal  probity  to  the  conduct  of  nations. 

As  between  individuals  it  is  found  impossible  to 
ascertain  every  duty  by  an  immediate  reference  to 
public  utility,  not  only  because  such  reference  is  of- 
tentimes too  remote  for  the  direction  of  private  con- 
sciences, but  because  a  multitude  of  cases  arise  in 
which  it  is  indifferent  to  the  general  interest  by  what 

N    N    N    ■ 


480  Of  War,  and  of 

rule  men  act,  though  it  be  absolutely  necessary  that 
they  act  by  some  constant  and  known  rule  or  other  ; 
and  as  for  these  reasons  certain  positive  constitutions 
are  wont  to  be  established  in  every  society,  which, 
•  when  established,  become  as  obligatory  as  the  origi- 
nal principles  of  natural  justice  themselves  ;  so,  like- 
wise, it  is  between  independent  communities.  To- 
gether with  those  maxims  of  universal  equity  which 
are  common  to  states  and  to  individuals,  and  by 
which  the  rights  and  conduct  of  the  one  as  well  as 
the  oth?r  ought  to  be  adjusted,  when  they  fall  with- 
in the  scope  and  application  of  such  maxims ;  there 
exists  aho  amongst  sovereigns  a  system  of  artificial  ju- 
risprudence, under  the  name  of  the  lazv  of  nations.  In 
this  code  are  found  the  rules  which  determine  the 
right  to  vacant  or  newly  discovered  countries  ;  those 
which  relate  to  the  protection  of  fugitives,  the  privi- 
leges of  ambassadors,  the  condition  and  duties  of 
neutrality,  the  immunities  of  neutral  ships,  ports, 
and  coas<%  the  distance  from  shore  to  which  these 
immunities  extend,  the  distinction  between  free  and 
contraband  goods,  and  a  variety  of  subjects  of  the 
same  kind.  Concerning  which  examples,  and  in- 
deed the  principal  part  of  what  is  called  the  jus  gen- 
iiunu  it  may  be  observed,  that  the  rules  derive  their 
moral  force,  by  which  I  mean  the  regard  that  ought 
to  be  paid  to  them  by  the  consciences  of  sovereigns, 
not  from  their  internal  reasonableness  or  ju.^tice,  for 
many  of  them  are  perfectly  arbitrary  ;  nor  yet  from 
the  authority  by  which  they  were  established,  for  the 
greater  part  have  grown  insensibly  into  usage,  with- 
out any  public  compact,  formal  acknowledgment,  or 
even  known  oriL^nal  ;  but  simply  from  the  fact  of 
their  being  established,  and  the  general  duty  of  con- 
forming to  established  rules  upon  questions,  and  be- 
tXvecn  parties,  where  nothing  but  positive  regulations 
can  prevent  disputes,  and  where  disputes  are  follow- 
ed by  such  destructive  consequences.  The  first  of 
the  in^.winces  wliich  we  have  just  now  enumerated, 
may  be  ^ilecled  for  the  illustration  of  this  remarks 
The  nations  of  Europe   consider   the  sovereignty  of 


Military  Esiablishtnents,  48 1 

newly  discovered  countries  as  belonging  to  the  prince 
or  state  whose  subject  makes  the  discovery ;  and,  in 
pursuance  of  this  rule,  it  is  usual  for  a  navigator, 
who  falls  upon  an  unknown  shore,  to  take  possession 
of  it,  in  the  name  of  his  sovereign  at  home,  by  erect- 
ing his  standard,  or  displaying  his  flag  upon  a  desart 
coast.  Now  nothing  can  be  more  fanciful,  or  less 
substantiated,  by  any  considerations  of  reason  or  jus- 
tice, than  the  right  which  such  discovery,  or  the 
transcient  occupation  and  idle  ceremony  that  accom- 
pany  it,  confer  upon  the  country  of  the  discoverer. 
Nor  can  any  stipulation  be  produced,  by  which  the 
rest  of  the  world  have  bound  themselves  to  submit 
to  this  pretension.  Yet  when  we  reflect  that  the 
claims  to  nev/ly  discovered  countries  can  hardly  be 
settled,  betv/een  the  different  nations  which  frequent 
them,  without  some  positive  rule  or  other  ;  that 
such  claims,  if  left  unsettled,  would  prove  sources  of 
ruinous  and  fatal  contentions  ;  that  the  rule  already 
proposed,  however  arbitrary,  possesses  one  principal 
quality  of  a  rule — determination  and  certainty  ; 
above  all,  that  it  is  acquiesced  in,  and  that  no  one 
has  power  to  substitute  another,  however  he  might 
contrive  a  better,  in  its  place  :  when  we  reflect  upon 
these  properties  of  the  rule,  or  rather  upon  these 
consequences  of  rejecting  its  authority,  we  are  led  to 
ascribe  to  it  the  virtue  and  obligation  of  a  precept  of 
natural  justice,  because  we  perceive  in  it  that  which 
is  the  foundation  of  justice  itself,  public  importance 
and  utility.  And  a  prince  who  should  dispute  this 
rule,  for  the  v*fant  of  regularity  in  its  formation,  or 
of  intelligible  justice  in  its  principle,  and  by  such  dis- 
putes should  disturb  the  tranquiHty  of  nations,  and 
at  the  same  time  lay  the  foundation  of  future  disturb- 
ances, would  be  little  less  criminal  than  he  who 
breaks  the  public  peace  by  a  violation  of  engagements 
to  which  he  had  himself  consented,  or  by  an  at- 
tack upon  those  national  rights  which  are  founded 
immediately  in  the  law  of  nature,  and  in  the  first 
perceptions  of  equity.  The  same  thing  may  be  re- 
peated of  the  rules  which  the  law  of  nations   pre- 


482  Of  PVar,  and  of 

scribes  in  the  other  instances  that  were  meritionedj 
namely,  that  the  obscurity  of  their  origin,  or  the  ar- 
bitrariness of  their  principle,  subtracts  nothing  from 
the  respect  that  is  due  to  them,  when  once  established. 

War  may  be  considered  with  a  view  to  its  causes 
and  to  its  conduct. 

The  justifying  causes  of  war  are  deliberate  inva- 
sions of  right,  and  the  necessity  of  maintaining  such 
a  balance  of  power  amongst  neighbouring  nations,  as 
that  no  single  state,  or  confederacy  of  states,  be  .strong 
enough  to  overwhelm  the  rest.  The  objects  of  just 
war  are  precaution,  defence,  or  reparation.  In  a 
larger  sense,  every  just  war  is  a  defensirjc  war,  inas- 
much as  every  just  war  supposes  an  injury  perpetra- 
ted, attempted,  or  feared. 

The  insufficient  causes,  or  unjiistifiahle  motives  of 
war,  are  the  family  alliances,  the  personal  friendships, 
or  the  personal  quarrels  of  princes  ;  the  internal  dis- 
putes which  are  carried  on  in  other  nations  ;  the  jus- 
tice of  other  wars  ;  the  extension  of  territory,  or  of 
trade ;  the  misfortunes  or  accidental  weakness  of  a 
neighbouring  or  rival  nation. 

There  are  two  lessons  of  rational  and  sober  policy, 
which,  if  it  were  possible  to  inculcate  into  the  coun- 
cils of  princes,  would  exclude  many  of  the  motives 
of  war,  and  allay  that  restless  ambition  which  is  con- 
stantly stirring  up  one  part  of  mankind  against  anoth- 
er. The  first  of  these  lessons  admonishes  princes  to 
**place  their  glory  and  their  emulation,  not  in  extent 
of  territory,  but  in  raising  the  greatest  quantity  of 
happiness  out  of  a  given  territory.'*  The  enlarge- 
ment of  territory  by  conquest  is  not  only  not  a  just 
object  of  war,  but  in  the  greater  part  of  the  instan- 
ces in  which  it  is  attempted,  not  even  desirable.  It 
is  certainly  not  desirable  where  it  adds  nothing  to 
the  numbers,  the  enjoyments  or  the  security  of  the 
conquerors.  What  commonly  is  gained  to  a  nation, 
by  the  annexing  of  new  dependencies,  or  the  subju- 
gation of  other  countries  to  its  dominion,  but  a 
wider  frontier  to  defend  j    more  interfering  claims 


Military  Establishments*  483 

to  vindicate  ;  more  quarrels,  more  enemies,  more 
rebellions  to  encounter ;  a  greater  force  to  keep  up 
by  sea  and  land  ;  more  services  to  provide  for,  and 
more  establishments  to  pay  ?  And,  in  order  to  draw 
from  these  acquisitions  something  that  may  make  up 
for  the  charge  of  keeping  them,  a  revenue  is  to  be 
extorted,  or  a  monopoly  to  be  enforced  and  waiched, 
at  an  expense  which  costs  half  their  produce.  Thus 
the  provinces  are  oppressed,  in  order  to  pay  for  be- 
ing ill  governed  ;  and  the  original  state  is  exhausted 
in  maintaining  a  feeble  authority  over  discontented 
subjects.  No  assignable  portion  of  country  is  bene- 
fitted by  the  change;  and  if  the  sovereign  appear  to 
himself  to  be  enriched  or  strengthened,  when  every 
part  of  his  dominion  is  made  poorer  and  weaker  than 
it  vi^as,  it  is  probable  that  he  is  deceived  by  appear- 
ances. Or,  were  it  true  that  the  grandeur  of  the 
prince  is  magnified  by  those  exploits  ;  the  glory 
which  is  purchased,  and  the  ambition  which  is  grati- 
fied, by  the  distress  of  one  country  without  adding  to 
the  happiness  of  another,  which  at  the  sanse  time  en- 
slaves the  new  and  impoverishes  the  ancient  part  of 
the  empire,  by  whatever  names  it  may  be  known  or 
flattered,  ought  to  be  an  object  of  universal  execra- 
tion ;  and  oftentimes  not  more  so  to  the  vanquished. 
than  to  the  very  people  who  e  armies  or  whose  treas- 
ures have  achieved  the  victory. 

There  are,  indeed,  two  cases  in  which  the  exten-- 
sion  of  territory  may  be  of  real  advantage,  and  to 
both  parties.  The  first  is,  where  an  empire  thereby 
reaches  to  the  natural  boundaries  which  divide  it 
from  the  rest  of  the  world.  Thus  we  account  the 
British  Channel  the  natural  boundary  which  separates 
the  nations  of  England  and  France  :  and  if  France 
possessed  any  countries  on  this,  or  England  any  cities 
or  provinces  on  that  side  of  the  sea,  the  recovery  of 
such  towns  and  districts  to  what  may  be  called  their 
natural  sovereign,  though  it  may  not  be  a  just  reason 
for  commencing  war,  would  be  a  proper  use  to  make 
of  victory.  The  other  case  is,  where  neighbouring 
states,  being  severally  too  small  and  weak  to  defend 


484  Of  War,  and  of 

themselves  against  the  dangers  that  surround  them, 
can  only  be  safe  by  a  strict  and  constant  junction  of 
their  strength  :  here  conquest  will  effect  the  purposes 
of  confederation  and  alliance  ;  and  the  union  which 
it  produces  is  often  more  close  and  permanent  than 
that  which  results  from  voluntary  association.  Thus, 
if  the  heptarchy  had  continued  in  England,  the  dif- 
ferent kingdoms  of  it  might  have  separately  fallen 
a  prey  to  foreign  invasion  :  and  although  the  interest 
and  danger  of  one  part  of  the  island  were  in  truth 
common  to  every  other  part,  it  might  have  been  dif- 
ficult to  have  circulated  this  persuasion  amongst  inde- 
pendent nations  ;  or  to  have  united  them  in  any 
regular. or  steady  opposition  to  their  continental  ene- 
mies, had  not  the  valour  and  fortune  of  an  enter- 
prising prince  incorporated  the  whole  into  a  single 
monarchy.  Here  the  conquered  gained  as  much  by 
the  revolution  as  the  conquerors.  In  like  manner, 
and  for  the  same  reason,  when  the  two  royal  families 
of  Spain  were  met  together  in  one  race  of  princes, 
and  the  several  provinces  of  France  had  devolved  in- 
to the  possession  of  a  single  sovereign,  it  became  un- 
safe for  the  inhabitants  of  Great  Britain  any  longer  to 
remain  under  separate  governments.  The  union  of 
England  and  Scotland,  which  transformed  two  quar- 
relsome neighbours  into  one  powerful  empire,  and 
which  was  first  brought  about  by  the  course  of  succes- 
sion, and  afterwards  completed  by  amicable  conven- 
tion, would  have  been  a  fortunate  conclusion  of  hos- 
tilities, had  it  been  effected  by  the  operations  of  war. 
These  two  cases  being  admitted,  namely,  the  obtain- 
ing of  natural  boundaries  and .  barriers,  and  the  in- 
cluding under  the  same  government  those  who  have 
a  common  danger  and  a  common  enemy  to  guard 
against,  I  know  not  whether  a  third  can  be  thought 
of.  In  which  the  extension  of  empire  by  conquest  is 
useful  even  to  the  conquerors. 

The  second  rule  of  prudence  which  ought  to  be 
recommended  to  those  who  conduct  the  affairs  of 
nations,  is,  ''  never  to  pursue  national  honour  as  dis- 
tinct from  national   interest'^     This   rule   acknowl- 


Military  Establishments,  485 

edges  that  it  is  often  necessary  to  assert  the  honour 
of  a  nation  for  the  sake  of  its  interest.  The  spirit 
and  courage  of  a  people  are  supported  by  flattering 
their  pride.  Concessions  which  betray  too  much  of 
fear  or  weakness,  though  they  relate  to  points  of 
mere  ceremony,  invite  demands  and  attacks  of  more 
serious  importance.  Our  rule  allows  all  this  ;  and 
only  directs  that,  when  points  of  honour  become 
subjects  of  contention  between  sovereigns,  or  are 
likely  to  be  made  the  occasions  of  war,  they  be  esti- 
mated with  a  reference  to  utility,  and  not  by  them- 
selves. "  The  dignity  of  his  crown,  the  honour  of  his 
flag,  the  glory  of  his  arms,'*  in  the  mouth  of  a  prince 
are  stately  and  imposing  terms ;  but  the  ideas  they 
i-nspire  are  insatiable.  It  may  always  be  glorious  to 
conquer,  whatever  be  the  justice  of  the  war,  or  the 
price  of  the  victory.  The  dignity  of  a  sovereign  may 
not  permit  him  to  recede  from  claims  of  homage 
and  respect,  at  whatever  expense  of  national  peace  and 
happiness  they  are  to  be  maintained,  however  unjust 
they  may  have  been  in  their  original,  or  in  their  con- 
tinuance however  useless  to  the  possessor,  or  morti- 
fying and  vexatious  to  other  states.  The  pursuit  of 
honour,  when  set  loose  from  the  admonitions  of  pru- 
dence, becomes  in  kings  a  wild  and  romantic  passion  : 
eager  to  engage,  and  gathering  fury  in  its  progress, 
it  is  checked  by  no  difficulties,  repelled  by  no  dan- 
gers ;  it  forgets  or  despises  those  considerations  oi 
safety,  ease,  wealth,  and  plenty,  which  in  the  eye  of 
true  public  wisdom,  compose  the  objects  to  which  the 
renown  of  arms,  the  fame  of  victory,  are  only  instru-' 
mental  and  subordinate.  The  pursuit  of  interest,  on 
the  other  hand,  is  a  sober  principle  ;  computes  costs 
and  consequences  ;  is  cautious  of  entering  into  war  ; 
stops  in  time  :  when  regulated  by  those  universal 
maxims  of  relative  justice,  which  belong  to  the  af« 
fairs  of  communities  as  well  as  of  private  persons,  it 
is  the  right  principle  for  nations  to  proceed  by  ;  even 
when  it  trespasses  upon  these  regulations,  it  is  much 
less  dangerous,  because  much  more  temperate,  than 
the  other. 


486  Of  War,  and  of 

II.  The  conduct  of  war. — If  the  cause  and  end  of 
war  be  justifiable,  all  the  means  that  appear  necessary 
to  the  end  are  justifiable  also.  This  is  the  principle 
which  defends  those  extremities  to  which  the  vio- 
lence of  war  usually  proceeds  :  for  vsince  war  is  a  con- 
test by  force  beftween  parties  who  acknowledge  no 
common  superior,  and  since  it  includes  not  in  its  idea 
the  supposition  of  any  convention  which  should  place 
limits  to  the  operations  of  force,  it  has  naturally  no 
boundary  but  that  in  which  force  terminates,  the  de- 
struction of  the  life  against  which  the  force  is  direct- 
ed. I^et  it  be  observed,  however,  that  the  license  of 
war  authorizes  no  acts  of  hostility  but  what  are  neces- 
sary or  conducive  to  the  end  and  object  of  the  war. 
Gratuitous  barbarities  borrow  no  excuse  from  this 
plea  :  of  which  kind  is  every  cruelty  and  every  insult 
that  serves  only  to  exasperate  the  sufferings,  or  to 
incense  the  hatred  of  an  enemy,  without  weakening 
his  strength,  or  in  any  manner  tending  to  procure 
his  submission  ;  such  as  the  slaughter  of  captives,  the 
subjecting  of  them  to  indignities  or  torture,  the  vio- 
lation of  women,  the  profanation  of  temples,  the  de- 
molition of  public  buildings,  libraries,  statutes,  and  in 
general  the  destruction  or  defacing  of  works  that 
conduce  nothing  to  annoyance  or  defence.  These 
enormities  are  prohibited  not  only  by  the  practice  of 
civilized  nations,  but  by  the  law  of  nature  itself;  as 
having  no  proper  tendency  to  accelerate  the  termi» 
nation,  or  accompli.-h  the  object  of  the  war ;  and  as 
containing  that  which  in  peace  and  war  is  equally 
unjustifiable — ultimate  and  gratuitous  mischie£ 

There  are  other  restrictions  imposed  on  the  con- 
duct of  war,  not  by  the  law  of  nature  primarily,  but 
by  the  laws  of  war,  first,  and  by  the  law  of  nature  as 
seconding  and  ratifying  the  laws  of  war.  The  laws 
of  war  are  part  of  the  law  of  nations  ;  and  founded, 
as  to  their  authority,  upon  the  same  principle  with 
the  rest  of  that  code,  namely,  upon  the  fact  of  their 
being  established,  no  matter  when  or  by  whom  ;  upon 
the  expectation  of  their  being  mutually  observed,  in 
consequence  of  that  establishment :    and  upon   the 


Military  Establishments »  487 

general  utility  which  results  from  such  observance. 
The  binding  force  of  these  rules  is  the  greater,  be- 
cause the  regard  that  is  paid  to  them  must  be  univer- 
sal or  none.  The  breach  of  the  rule  can  only  be  pun- 
ished by  the  subversion  of  the  rule  itself:  on  which 
account,  the  whole  mischief  that  ensues  from  the  loss 
of  those  salutary  restrictions  which  such  rules  pre- 
scribe, is  justly  chargeable  upon  the  first  aggressor. 
To  this  consideration  may  be  referred  the  duty  of 
refraining  in  war  from  poison  and  from  assassination. 
If  the  law  of  nature  simply  be  consulted,  it  may  be 
difficult  to  distinguish  between  these  and  other  meth- 
ods of  destruction,  which  are  practised  without  scru- 
ple by  nations  at  war.  If  it  be  lawful  to  kill  an  ene- 
my at  all,  it  seems  lawful  to  do  so  by  one  mode  of 
death  as  well  as  by  another  ;  by  a  dose  of  poison,  as 
by  the  point  of  a  sword  ;  by  the  hand  of  an  assassin, 
as  by  the  attack  of  an  army :  for  if  it  be  said  that 
one  species  of  assault  leaves  to  the  enemy  the  power 
of  defending  himself  against  it,  and  that  the  other 
does  not ;  it  may  be  answered,  that  we  possess  at  least 
the  same  right  to  cut  off  an  enemy's  defence,  that  we 
have  to  seek  his  destruction.  In  this  manner  might 
the  question  be  debated,  if  there  existed  no  rule  or 
law  of  war  upon  the  subject.  But  when  we  observe 
that  such  practices  are  at  present  excluded  by  the 
usage  and  opinions  of  civilized  nations  ;  that  the  first 
recourse  to  them  would  be  followed  by  instant  retal- 
liation  ;  that  the  mutual  license  which  such  attempts 
must  introduce,  would  fill  both  sides  with  the  misery 
of  continual  dread  and  suspicion,  without  adding  to 
the  strength  or  success  of  either  ;  that  when  the  ex- 
ample came  to  be  more  generally  imitated,  which  it 
soon  would  be,  after  the  sentiment  that  condemns  it 
had  been  once  broken  in  upon,  it  would  greatly  ag- 
gravate the  horrors  and  calamities  of  war,  yet  procure 
no  superiority  to  any  of  the  nations  engaged  in  it : 
when  we  view  these  effects,  we  join  in  the  public 
reprobation  of  such  fatal  expedients,  as  of  the  admis- 
sion amongst  mankind  of  new  and  enormous  evils 
without  necessity  or  advantage.     The  law  of  nature, 

0  0  0 


488  Of  War,  and  of 

we  see  at  length,  forbids  thesejnnovations,  as  so  many 
transgressions  of  a  beneficial  general  rule  actually  sub- 
sisting. 

The  license  of  war  then  acknowledges  two  limita- 
tions :  it  authorizes  no  hostilities  which  have  not  an 
apparent  tendency  to  effectuate  the  object  of  the 
war  ;  it  respects  those  positive  laws  which  the  custom 
of  nations  hath  sanctified,  and  which,  whilst  they  are 
mutually  conformed  to,  mitigate  the  calamities  of 
war,  without  weakening  its  operations,  or  diminish- 
ing the  power  or  safety  of  belligerent  states. 

Long  and  various  experience  seems  to  have  con- 
vinced the  nations  of  Europe,  that  nothing   but  a 
standing  army  can  oppose  a  standing  army,  where  the 
numbers  on  each  side  bear  any  moderate  proportion 
to  one  another.     The  first  standing  army  that  appear- 
ed in  Europe  after  the  fall  of  the  Roman  legion,  was 
that  which  was  erected  in  France   by  Charles  VII. 
about  the  middle  of  the  fifteenth  century  :  and  that 
the  institution  hath  since  become  general,  can  only 
be  attributed  to  the  superiority  and    success  which 
are  every  where  observed  to  attend  it.     The  truth  is, 
the  closeness,  regularity,  and  quickness  of  their  move- 
ments ;     the  unreserved,  instantaneous,  and    almost 
mechanical  obedience  to  orders  ;  the  sense  of  person- 
al honoura  and    the  familiarity  with  danger,  which 
belong  to  a  disciplined,  veteran,  and  embodied  sol- 
diery, give  such  firmness  and  intrepidity  to  their  ap- 
proach, such  weight  and  execution  to  their  attack, 
as  are  not  to  be  withstood  by  loose  ranks  of  occa- 
sional and  newly-levied  troops,   who    are   liable   by 
their  inexperience  to  disorder  and  confusion,  and  in 
whom  fear  is  constantly  augmented  by  novelty  and 
surprise.     It  is  possible  that  a  militia^  with  a  great  ex- 
cess of  numbers,  and  a  ready  supply  of  recruits,  may 
sustain  a  defensive  or  a  flying  war  against  regular 
troops  ;  it  is  also  true  that  any  service,  which  keeps 
soldiers  for  a  while  together,  and  inures  them  by  lit- 
tle and  little  to  the  habits  of  war  and  the  dangers  of 
action,  transforms  them  in  effect  into  a  standing  ar- 


Military  Establishments,  489 

my.  But  upon  this  plan  it  may  be  necessary  for  al- 
most  a  whole  nation  to  go  out  to  war  to  repel  an  in- 
vader :  beside  that,  a  people  so  unprepared  must  al- 
ways have  the  seat,  and  with  it  the  miseries  of  war, 
at  home,  being  utterly  incapable  of  carrying  their 
operations  into  a  foreign  country. 

From  the  acknowledged  superiority  of  standing 
armies,  it  follows,  not  only  that  it  is  unsafe  for  a  na- 
tion to  disband  its  regular  troops,  whilst  neighbour- 
ing kingdoms  retain  theirs  ;  but  also  that  regular 
troops  provide  for  the  public  service  at  the  least  pos- 
sible expense.  I  suppose  a  certain  quantity  of  mili- 
tary strength  to  be  neces>ary,  and  I  say  that  a  stand- 
ing army  costs  the  community  less  than  any  other 
establishment  which  presents  to  an  enemy  the  same 
force.  The  constant  drudgery  of  lov^  employments 
is  not  only  incompatible  with  any  great  degree  of 
perfection  or  cxpertness  in  the  prohession  of  a  soldier, 
but  the  profession  of  a  soldier  almost  always  unfits 
men  for  the  business  of  regular  occupations.  Ot 
three  inhabitants  of  a  village,  it  is  belter  that  one 
should  addict  himself  entirely  to  arms,  and  the  other 
two  stay  constantly  at  home  to  cultivate  the  ground, 
than  that  all  the  three  should  mix  the  avocations  oi 
a  camp  with  the  bn^iness  of  hu.sbandry.  By  the 
former  arrangement  the  country  gains  one  cotnplr-te 
soldier,  and  two  industrious  husbandmen  ;  from  the 
latter  it  receives  three  raw  n\iHtia  men,  who  are  at 
the  same  time  three  idle  and  profligate  peasants.  It 
should  be  considered,  also,  that  the  emergencies  of 
war  wait  not  for  seasons.  Where  there  is  no  stand- 
ing army  ready  for  innnediate  service,  it  may  be  nec- 
essary to  call  the  reaper  from  the  lields  in  harvest, 
or  the  ploughman  in  seed  time  ;  and  the  provision  oi 
a  whole  year  may  perish  by  the  interruption  of  one 
month's  labour.  A  standing  army,  therefore,  is  not 
only  a  more  effectual,  but  a  cheaper  method  of  pro- 
viding for  the  pubhc  safety,  than  any  Other,  because 
it  adds  more  than  any  other  to  the  common  strength, 
and  takes  less  from  that  which  composes  the  wealth 
oi  a  nation,  its  stock  of  productive  industrvo 


490  Of  War,  and  of 

There  is  yet  another  distinction  between  standing 
armies  and  militias,  which  deserves  a  more  attentive 
consideration  than  any  that  ha>  been  mentioned. 
When  the  state  relics  for  its  defence  upon  a  mihtia, 
it  is  necessary  that  arms  be  put  into  the  hands  of  the 
people  at  large..  The  mihtia  it.self  mu  t  be  nume- 
rous, in  proportion  to  the  want  or  inferiority  ot  its 
discipline,  and  the  imbecilities  or  defects  of  its  con- 
stitution. Moreover,  as  such  a  militia  must  be  sup-" 
plied  by  rotation,  allotment,  or  some  mode  of  success- 
sion  whereby  they  who  have  served  a  certain  time 
are  replaced  by  fresh  draughts  from  the  country,  a 
much  greater  number  will  be  instructed  in  the  use  of 
arms,  and  will  have  been  occasionally  embodied  to- 
gether, than  are  actually  employed,  or  than  are  sup- 
posed to  be  wanted,  at  the  same  time,  Now  what 
effects  upon  the  civil  condition  of  the  country  may 
be  looked  for  from  this  general  diffusion  of  the  mili- 
tary character,  becomes  an  inquiry  of  great  impor- 
tance and  delicacy.  To  me  it  appears  doubtful 
whether  any  government  can  be  long  secure,  where 
the  people  are  acquainted  with  the  use  of  arms,  and 
accustmed  to  resort  to  them.  Every  faction  will 
find  itself  at  the  head  of  an  army  ;  every  disgust  will 
excite  commotion,  and  every  commotion  become  a 
civil  war.  Noticing  perhaps  can  govern  a  nation  of 
armed  citizens  but  that  which  governs  an  army— - 
despoti  m,  1  do  not  mean  that  a  regular  govern- 
ment would  become  despotic  by  training  up  its  sub- 
ject- to  the  knowledge  and  exercise  of  arms,  but  that 
it  would  ere  long  be  forced  to  give  way  to  despotism 
in  some  other  shape  ;  and  that  the  country  would 
be  liable  to  what  is  even  worse  than  a  settled  and 
constitutional  despotism — to  perpetual  rebellions,  and 
to  perpetual  revolutions  ;  to  ^hort  and  violent  usur- 
pations ;  to  the  successive  tyranny  of  governors,  ren- 
dered cruel  and  jealous  by  the  danger  and  instability 
of  their  situation. 

The  same  purposes  of  strength  and  efficacy  which 
make  a  standing  army  necessary  at  all,  make  itneses^ 
sary,  in  mixed  governments,  that  this  army  be  sub- 


Military  Establishments,  4.91 

jiiitted  to  the  management  and  direction  of  the 
prince  :  for  however  well  a  popular  council  may  be 
qualified  for  the  offices  of  legislation,  it  is  aUogcther 
unfit  for  the  conduct  of  war  :  in-which,  success  uf.u- 
ally  depends  upon  vigour  and  enterprize ;  upo»  se- 
crecy, dispatch,  and  unanimity :  upon  a  quick  per- 
ception of  opportunities,  and  the  power  of  seizmg 
every  opportunity  immedidtely.  It  is  likewi-e  neces- 
sary that  the  obedience  of  an  army  be  as  prompt  and 
active  as  possible  ;  for  which  reason  it  ought  tu  be 
made  an  obedience  of  will  and  emulation.  Upon, 
this  consideratioi.  is  founded  the  expediency  of  leav« 
ing  to  the  prince  not  only  the  government  and  desti- 
nation of  the  army,  but  the  appviintment  and  pro- 
motion of  its  offices  :  because  a  de-ign  is  then  alone 
likely  to  be  executed  with  zeal  and  fidelity,  vi'hen 
the  person  who  issues  the  order,  choo.^es  the  instru- 
ments, and  rewards  the  service.  To  which  we  may 
subjoin,  that,  in  governments  like  ours,  if  the  direc- 
tion and  officering  of  the  army  were  placed  in  the 
hands  of  the  democratic  part  ot  the  constitution,  this 
power,  added  to  what  they  already  possess,  would  so 
overbalance  all  that  would  be  left  of  regal  prerogative, 
that  little  would  remain  of  monarchy  in  the  consti- 
tution, but  the  name  and  expense  ;  nor  would  these 
probably  remain  long. 

Whilst  we  describe, .  hov/ever,  the  advantages  of 
standing  armies,  we  must  not  conceal  the  danger. 
These  properties  of  their  constitution — the  se>ldiery 
being  separated  in  a  great  degree  from  the  rest  of 
the  community,  their  being  closely  linked  amongst 
themselves  by  habits  of  society  and  subordination, 
and  the  dependency  of  the  Vv'hole  chain  upon  the 
will  and  favour  of  the  prince — however  essential  they 
may  be  to  the  purposes  for  which  armies  arc  kept  up, 
give  them  an  aspect  in  no  wise  favourable  to  public 
liberty.  The  danger  however  is  diminished  by  main- 
taining, upon  oil  occasions,  as  much  alliance  of  inter- 
est, and  as  much  intercourse  of  sentiment,  between 
the  military  part  of  the  nation  and  the  other  orders 
of  the  people,  as  are  consistent  with  the  union  and 


492      Of  War^  and  of  Military  Establishmenis, 

discipline  of  an  army.  For  which  purpose  officers  of 
the  army,  upon  whose  disposition  towards  the  com- 
monweahh  a  great  deal  may  depend,  should  be  taken 
from  the  principal  families  of  the  country,  and  at  the 
same  time  also  be  encouraged  to  establish  in  it  fam- 
ilies of  their  own,  as  well  as  be  admitted  to  seats  in 
the  senate,  to  hereditary  distinctions,  and  to  all  the 
civil  honours  and  privileges  that  are  compatible  with 
their  profession  :  which  circumstances  of  connexion 
and  situation  will  give  them  such  a  share  in  the  gen- 
eral rights  of  the  people,  and  so  engage  their  inclina- 
tions on  the  side  of  public  liberty,  as  to  afford  a  rea- 
sonable security  that  they  cannot  be  brought,  by  any 
promises  of  personal  aggrandizement,  to  assist  in  the 
execution  of  measures  which  might  enslave  their  pos- 
terity, their  kindred,  and  their  country. 


FINIS. 


7-r-    a^. 


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